


We Could Keep Things Just the Same

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Brief Leonard Snart/Sara Lance, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Barry Allen/Iris West, Minor Caitlin Snow/Ronnie Raymond - Freeform, Minor Cisco Ramon/Lisa Snart, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Barry Allen joins Rip Hunter and his crew on a trip to Central City, 2038, an accidental encounter leaves him torn between his first love, Iris, and his growing feelings towards Leonard Snart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to [Rinzler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinzler) for helping me work through my thoughts. I couldn't have pulled all of this together without you.  
> Title taken from Sugarland's wonderful song [Want To](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eb_X8rcf0aU)!

_"We could keep things just the same_

_leave here the way we came_

_with nothing to lose_

_but I don't want to, if you don't want to"_

 

* * *

 

 

“Would you relax, Iris? Everything will be fine. I’ll only be gone for a couple of days.”

Iris stood in the threshold of Barry’s room, arms crossed over her chest, as she watched him take a pair of socks from his dresser and toss them into an overnight bag. She raised a sculpted eyebrow in disbelief.

“If I remember correctly, isn’t that what you said about your expedition to Earth-2?”

“Okay,” Barry said with a grimace, doing up the zipper. “Earth-2 didn’t exactly go as planned. But I mean it this time.”

Barry grabbed the bag off his bed and brushed past Iris, taking the stairs two at a time. Iris, unflappable as ever, followed on his heels.

“Besides,” Barry continued. “It’s time travel. The mission could take months and I’d only be gone a few minutes as far as you were concerned.”

“You’re right, Barry. That makes me feel so much better,” she deadpanned.

Barry stopped his frantic escape attempt to face his longtime friend. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with the same earnest puppy dog eyes he’d used to soften the blow of accidentally killing her goldfish when they were twelve. Iris immediately deflated.

“I’m just worried, Bar,” she said.

Barry nodded. “I get that, Iris. But this isn’t any more dangerous than anything I’ve done before. I have some previous experience with time travel, remember?”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” she sighed, resigned.

Barry smirked. “You know I always am.”

 

* * *

 

“Welcome aboard the Waverider, Mr. Allen,” Gideon greeted as Barry stepped into mission control. He spun around in quick circles, examining the technology giddily, barely holding in his excited laughter.

“This scrawny little nerd is The Flash?” Mick grumbled from where he was sitting, eyeing Barry up and down.

“Remind me again, Kid, why you thought it was a good idea to share your secret identity with yet _another_ supervillain?” Snart asked.

Barry dropped his overnight bag by the door and moved to join the rest of Rip Hunter’s Legends crew by the holographic table.

“Well, come on,” Barry defended. “You guys aren’t really supervillains anymore. I mean, you’re traveling through time fighting bad guys.”

Snart scoffed. “For now.”

“It’s good to see you again, Barry,” Kendra greeted, giving Barry a warm hug.

“You too, Kendra,” Barry said. “I heard about Carter. I’m sorry.”

Kendra smiled sadly. “Thanks.”

“I believe you’ve all met Mr. Allen, in one way or another,” Rip said, gesturing around the room.

Sara chuckled. “Actually, I haven’t,” she said. She reached a hand forward and Barry quickly took it. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Barry. Everyone here’s told me so much about you.”

Barry looked over at Snart and Mick, dubious. “Everyone?” he asked.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Snart drawled. “Nothing good, I promise.”

Barry just smiled.

“Right, yes, enough of that,” Rip said, taking his seat at the helm. “There’ll be all the time in the world for exchanging pleasantries once Vandal Savage has been defeated.”

As Rip began fiddling with the controls, the crew moved to take their seats. On his way past, Jax bumped Barry on the shoulder.

“You might wanna hunker down, man,” he warned. Barry nodded in thanks. Looking around, he saw one remaining seat next to none other than Leonard Snart. Cold offered his signature smirk before patting the spot to his left.

“Get comfy, Scarlet,” he said. Gingerly, Barry did. “And watch out for any eye bleeding.”

Barry’s head snapped up from securing his shoulder brace. “Wait, what?”

Before anyone could reply, Rip set the ship into motion and the team began their strenuous hurtle through time.

“Gideon,” Rip commanded. “Plot a course for Central City, December 17th, 2038.”   

“Of course, Captain,” Gideon replied.

“We’re going to the future?” Ray asked.

“We’re going to _your_ future,” Rip corrected. “Still my past. Seeing as how we’ve had no luck stopping Savage to date, I thought we might try intercepting him closer to his rise to power.”

“And you’re just thinking of that now?” Snart asked skeptically.

The jump through time completed, the crew began to rise from their seats. Barry’s world shifted on its axis and he teetered abruptly to the left. Quick hands reached out to catch his elbow. Barry looked up at Snart and smiled sheepishly, gathering his bearings as swiftly as possible and pulling away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Time travel doesn’t usually feel like that for me.”

Snart shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“Several priceless artifacts will be stolen tomorrow evening from the Central City Museum,” Gideon supplied, the group crowded around her floating head.

“We believe Savage is responsible for the theft,” Rip continued. “Not directly, but through a network of associates. Several of the artifacts are from ancient Egypt, hence Savage’s interest.”

“No offence,” Snart began. “But if this is Central City, why doesn’t The Flash stop the heist in the first place?” - a quick look over at Barry, who had his eyes trained to the floor uncomfortably - “I mean, The Flash from 2038.”

Snart barely had the sentence out before Rip was shaking his head. “The more you know about the future, the more damage you risk doing to the timeline. That’s why I wasn’t keen on bringing you here in the first place. Unfortunately, with all our previous attempts to stop Savage thwarted, I didn’t think there was much of a choice.”

“So what’s the plan?” Sara asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“We go in, stop Savage’s people from stealing the artifacts, and get out before anyone learns anything they shouldn’t about the future,” Rip said.

“What’s to stop Savage from trying to steal the artifacts again once we’re gone?” Stein asked. “Shouldn’t we do something more substantial to ensure their protection?”

“We are,” Rip assured. “We’re going to steal them first.”

Mick’s eyes lit up. “Now this is my kind of mission.”

“Steal them?” Barry sputtered. “Isn’t that against the law?”  

“Big picture, Kid,” Snart reminded him.

“Mr. Snart is correct,” Rip said. “Stealing is against the law, but so is mass murder and world domination. There is a hierarchy to these things.”

“Right,” Barry said, nodding, though he still sounded unsure. “Of course.”

“We’ll go in tonight,” Rip continued. “Steal the artifacts, and keep them here on the ship. Once Savage has been defeated, we will return them to a safe point in the timeline.”

“Just when I was starting to like your plan,” Snart sighed.

“You can’t be a hero and a thief,” Barry argued, giving the older man a serious look. Snart remained impassive as ever.

“Watch me.”

 

* * *

 

 

The crew assembled outside the Central City Museum under the cover of darkness. Barry rubbed his hands through the thick material of his suit, jumping from foot to foot as his quickened breath sent puffs of vapor into the air. Snart, who was busying himself with disarming the museum’s security system, looked over at the younger man and let out an annoyed huff.

“Stop fidgeting,” he grumbled. “I need to concentrate. It’s not every day I break through security that hasn’t been invented yet.”

Barry stilled guiltily.

“I thought your super speed kept you running hot, anyway,” Snart added.   

“It’s literally freezing out,” Barry snapped defensively. “Besides, you’re wearing a parka, not skin-tight reinforced tri-polymer. You don’t get to comment on how cold it is.”

“Actually,” Snart teased. “Cold’s sort of my thing.”

Barry scoffed but didn’t dignify the comment with a response.

“The guards change shifts in five minutes,” Mick warned. “How about you put a pin in all the banter and focus on disarming the alarms.”

“Yes, thank you, Mick,” Snart sneered. “But as always, I don’t actually need someone else to tell me how to do my job.”

Mick rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Len.”

Another minute passed in silence, Snart fiddling with the security system and Barry trying desperately to stand still despite the bitter cold wind. Eventually, Snart glanced over at him.

“Hey, Scarlet,” he said, voice lowered conspiratorially. “Didn’t Ramon line your suit with micro-heaters to stand up against the Cold Gun?”

Barry was glad his suit covered his cheeks as he felt a blush climb up his face, though he could have perhaps blamed it on the cold either way.

“I was just about to turn those on, actually,” Barry lied.

“Of course,” Snart said, thankfully playing along. “Smart kid like you.”

Snart turned back to the system and carefully snipped a blue wire. The light changed from green to red and Snart sat back on his heels, smug smile in place.

“It worked,” Ray chirped excitedly.

Snart glared at him. “Of course it worked, Raymond,” he said. “I’m a professional.”

“So does this mean we can go in now?” Jax asked impatiently.

“I’m still questioning why this had to be a group outing,” Snart grumbled, coming to a stand. “Nothing screams _suspicious activity_ quite like nine idiots standing in some back alley outside of a _closed_ museum.”

“We wouldn’t _be_ standing around if you weren’t feeling so chatty,” Mick countered.

Snart glared daggers at his partner. “Can it, Mick.” He then turned to the rest of the team. “Alarm is disabled. Guards are changing shift as we speak.”

Snart turned the handle on the back door and opened it with a flourish. He turned to Barry and smirked.

“After you, Flash.”

Barry frowned. “You’re having too much fun with this.”

“Len’s full of fun,” Sara chuckled. She breezed past Barry and took the first steps into the building, patting his face on the way by. “And you should lighten up. We’re in the future. What’s not fun about that?”

“That sounds too much like tempting fate,” Barry sighed, lips twisting into a frown.

If anything, Snart’s eyes lit up. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “Fate’s got nothing on that woman.”

The two stared each other down until Barry gave in, shaking his head and stepping inside. Snart followed directly behind him, leaving a disgruntled Rip to catch the door before it swung closed in his face.

The crew made it to the museum’s main foyer without issue, much to Barry’s relief. Something about The Flash stealing priceless artifacts still didn’t sit right with him.

“Relax, Flash,” Kendra whispered, placing a hand gently on his arm. “We’ve done this sort of thing before.”

“And it’s gone well?” Barry asked. The lack of response was anything but a comfort.

Rip held up a hand to halt their procession. Turning to give his final instructions, all hell broke loose as an arrow whizzed past the Time Master’s face and lodged in the wall beside him, sending up a stream of sparks. The team turned quickly, trying to identify the source of their ambush.

“I thought you said you disabled the alarm,” Rip yelled over the mounting chaos as another arrow just missed catching Sara in the shoulder.

“Obviously the system’s been updated in the last twenty-two years,” Snart yelled back, firing the Cold Gun blindly in the direction of their assailant. Without warning, a piercing shriek rang out, shattering one of the nearby glass cases. Barry winced and brought his hands up to cover his ears.

“What the hell was that?” Jax yelled, taking his own hands away from his ears.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Sara said.

“Not without the artifacts,” Rip protested.

The group ducked as a stream of bright blue fire launched over their heads. Mick fired his own stream back, taking more delight in the firefight than was entirely necessary. Snart snuck a quick glance behind himself at the hallway that led to the Egyptian antiquities room.

“I’ll go after the artifacts,” he said. “Cover me.”

“Snart,” Rip hollered. Behind him, Stein and Jax were beginning their Firestorm fusion.  “Stick to the mission. There will be no pocketing of any valuables for yourself, understood?”

“I’ll go with him,” Barry volunteered.

Snart looked over at him and smirked. “What? You don’t trust me, Flash?”

Barry scoffed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

With Mick and Firestorm laying down cover, Barry and Snart made a break for the antiquities room. A strange gust of wind kicked up behind them, but neither man risked taking the time to look back.

When they arrived at the threshold to the Egyptian antiquities room, Barry was ready to flash in and collect the goods, getting the whole criminal ordeal over with, but Snart’s hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to ask what the problem was, but Snart raised a finger to his lips, urging Barry to stay silent.

And then Barry heard it. Muffled voices from within the exhibit. He peered around the corner with Snart and saw what had caused the man to pause. Two people, a man and a woman, were standing in the antiquities room, deep in conversation. It wasn’t just their presence but their apparel that gave Barry pause. The man, who Barry guessed was no older than his early twenties, wore a red suit with yellow lightning detail and black boots that was eerily similar to his own. The woman, tall and commanding with deep auburn hair pulled high in a ponytail, wore a familiar navy blue parka with fur trim, goggles covering her eyes and what looked suspiciously like a Cold Gun holstered to her thigh.

“We’re supposed to be out there helping the others,” the woman said, arms crossed over her chest, obviously none too pleased with the man in red.

“You don’t think eight costumed heroes is a bit overkill for a museum heist?” the man asked.

Even with the goggles, the woman’s raised eyebrow was obvious. “Then why did you bother coming at all?”

“I don’t know,” the man said with a shrug. He turned away from the woman and began perusing the items on display in a way Barry thought was meant to feign nonchalance, but was definitely missing the mark. “Neither of us get much downtime. I figured maybe we could use this as an opportunity to take in the sights.”

The redhead audibly chuckled at that, her laugh lilting and carefree. “Are you using official superhero business to con me into a date?” she asked, voice filled with mirth.

In a flash that had Barry holding back a surprised gasp, the man in red had the woman pinned to the wall, hands bracketing her head. Her goggles had been pulled down around her neck, allowing the pair to look into one another’s eyes. Snart tensed beside him, but instead of reacting in alarm or reaching for her gun, the woman placed her hand on a red-clad hip and bit her lip, trying to suppress a playful smile.

“I don’t know,” the man said, low enough that Barry had to strain to hear. “Do you want me to be?”

While the woman laughed as she shook her head dismissively, Barry noticed her fingers curl tighter around his hip. “Easy there, Jailbait,” she drawled.

The man groaned and threw his head back in exasperation. “I’m almost twenty,” he said. Something in his tone suggested this was not a new topic of conversation.

“I know,” the woman said. “That practically makes you a kid.”

He sighed, crowding into her space until their noses almost bumbed. “Michelle.”

Not at superhuman speed but quickly nonetheless, the woman - or Michelle as she’d been called - flipped their positions. Being just a hair shorter than the speedster, she raised her arm over his head and leaned into him, causing his breath to catch.

“It’s Commander Cold when I’m in the costume, Allen,” Michelle said, lips brushing the lobe of his ear, which his version of the costume left uncovered.

Barry tensed as he heard Michelle speak the new speedster’s name. His mind all but shut down as one thought screamed in his mind again and again. He thought about the timing, the metahuman abilities, the bits of exposed skin that were only a few shades lighter than Iris’s. Could this really be who he thought it was?

Michelle pulled away from the speedster in one fluid movement with a coy smile. She drew her goggles back up over her eyes.

“Come on,” she said, gesturing towards the entryway where Barry and Snart stood, though thankfully not looking over. “It sounds like a real fight out there. You’ll have to pick up this pathetic attempt at wooing me some other time.”

Barry had hardly noticed the sounds of the fighting escalating outside, so wrapped up in the exchange before him. Snart must have been equally as thrown because, before either of them could think to hide, Michelle stopped dead in her tracks as she spotted them. In a freakish sort of unison, both Snart and Michelle raised their guns. The distinctive sound of the Cold Guns whirring to life filled the room.

“Who are you?” Michelle asked, voice cold and flat, nothing like the teasing tone she’d used earlier.

At the sound of Michelle’s voice, the man in the red suit flashed to her side. He stood a few paces ahead of her, a subtle sort of protective metahuman shield. Barry blinked in surprise as he realized he was standing in front of Snart the same way, ready to whisk him out of harm’s way at a nanosecond’s notice. In some strange way it felt to Barry like looking through a funhouse mirror.

Michelle’s grip on her gun tightened when neither Snart nor Barry answered, but Barry’s mirror image brought a hand up to force her weapon down. She looked over at him warily but followed his lead and left the gun at her side when he took his hand away.

“Snart,” Barry said softly, noticing the strange way Michelle tensed when he spoke the older man’s name. “Put the gun down.”

“What?” Snart snapped. “Why?”

“Just - Please,” Barry implored. Slowly, Snart lowered his gun too.

Both speedsters took a hesitant step forward, looking each other up and down. The future speedster had tears welling in his eyes and Barry wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he finally spoke.

“Dad?”

 

* * *

 

It took several tense moments to de-escalate the situation in the museum lobby. With both parties talked down, though tensions still remained high, they stood face to face, each group appraising the other.

At the center of their opponents stood a man, tall and broad-shouldered with a compound bow held tightly in his left hand. A dark green hood and black mask obscured most of his face save a strong, clenched jaw and pursed lips. A quiver of arrows was strapped to his back over a dark green suit. Green armbands wrapped around his exposed forearms

To his right was a woman all in black, arms crossed over her chest. Above the dip of her sweetheart neckline, snug around the long column of her neck, was a black band with a small mechanical insert. Dark brown hair styled in thick box braids fell to her waist and a black mask obscured the upper part of her face. Dark red lips were set in a frown.

Another woman stood to her right, sculpted arms bared between a sleeveless top and gold coloured gloves. Two stripes of gold accentuated the deep v-neck of her white costume. A golden belt wrapped asymmetrically around her hips and gold combat boots covered her feet. Her long, inky black hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail and white and gold goggles hid her eyes.  

On the man’s left were three women. The first wore a red suit with yellow lightning like the speedster from the antiquities room, but with tall, black boots that came up to her mid-thighs. She had the same dark skin and warm brown eyes, and the same Flash emblem on the center of her chest. Chestnut brown hair fell in gentle curls past her shoulders in a way the reminded Barry so much of Iris he felt a twinge in his chest.

Beside her was a short, slender woman - a teenage girl, really - in a red and white suit. The deep crimson colour marked the center of her chest down the inseams of her legs. It crawled up her neck too, obscuring most of her face. Two bolts of yellow lightning ran the length of her body separating the two colours. Tightly curled, ombre hair sat in double buns at the top of her head.

The third was another teenager, also in a crimson and white costume. The image of a burning phoenix extended up her right leg and spread out over her chest, its hooked beak open and resting over her heart. She wore a crimson eye mask under a severe curtain of straight bangs, the waves of her ash blonde hair just brushing the edges of her chin.

“So, you’re from the past?” the woman in the Flash suit ask. Immediately, she scoffed and shook her head. “What am I saying? Of course you are. That’s why you don’t-”

She cut herself off before finishing the sentence, but she was looking right at Barry as she spoke. The Legend’s crew sent him inquisitive glances, some more subtly than others.

“Right, yes,” Rip said firmly. “That’s very good. There will be no more divulging of information about the future. The timeline could be irreparably damaged.”

“It’s okay,” Barry said quickly, voice breaking against his will. “I already know. I’m dead, right? Or at least missing.”

The man from the antiquities room nodded shakily. “For fourteen years.”

Around him, Barry’s teammates processed that information. Some gasped in surprise while others shifted uncomfortably. Snart, who for some reason had remained at Barry’s side, stilled completely. Barry could feel the tension coming off him in waves. A wishful part of his mind saw it as proof that whatever dynamic they shared, there was something more to it than the simple hero versus villain. Looking across the room at what he knew in his bones were his and Iris’s future children however, he was quick to shut that part of his mind down.

“When I was fighting the Reverse Flash, I saw a newspaper from the future,” Barry explained, though no one had asked him to. “It said I went missing in his version of the future. I guess I hoped things would have changed, but…”

Barry cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Hate to break up this reunion,” Rip said in a way that expressed the exact opposite. “But we really must be getting the artifacts and leaving immediately.”

Unfortunately, just as he spoke, the sound of sirens filled the room, approaching fast.

“No time, Captain,” Sara said.

“Come back to S.T.A.R. Labs,” Barry’s son offered impulsively. “We’ll help you come up with a plan B, seeing as how we were the ones who ruined your plan A.”

“Absolutely not,” Rip replied at the same time Barry said, “okay.”

Rip began to protest, but Stein interrupted him quickly. “We haven’t the time to argue, Mr. Hunter. We’ll simply have to accompany them to S.T.A.R. Labs and hope for the best.”

“Stuff Savage,” Rip muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “The timeline’s already doomed.” Resignedly, he followed the costumed heroes out of the museum and towards the temporal minefield awaiting every second of the interactions to come.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I wrote this chapter (as well as plotted about 90% of the fic) before Legends episode 1x06, Star City 2046, and I just have to say, I'm pretty pleased with how much of my characterization matched the team's actual reactions to visiting the future.   
> Also, as far as the rules of time travel go, I'm following the model laid out in The Flash episode 2x11, The Reverse Flash Returns, where changes in the timeline create these sort of parallel timelines that both exist alongside one another, versus "the future is always in flux" as they explained it in Legends.

Once at S.T.A.R Labs, the costumes came off and proper introductions were finally made. The man in the green hood led the Legends team into the cortex while his own team changed. The place looked different than it had in 2016, Barry noticed. For one, while the space was currently empty, a fair number of scientists must have been employed there, judging from the clutter of various projects around the workspace. 

Before Barry had a chance to poke around - though he thought he might have seen Snart pocket something - a man and a woman joined them, both dressed in well fitted business suits. Barry recognized them as the Green Hood and and Woman in Black. 

“Welcome to S.T.A.R. Labs,” the man said. He had the voice of a politician, and the charismatic smile to match. The woman beside him was more stoic. “I’m Will Clayton,” he continued. “And this is my wife, Sara Diggle.” 

“You’re Dig’s kid?” Sara asked, awe clear in her voice. “My namesake?” 

The woman smiled. “You must be Sara Lance,” she said. “My father and his friends have told me so much about you.” 

“Two Saras,” Ray interjected. “That’s going to get confusing.” 

“Call me Diggle, then,” the future Sara offered. “Seems only fair. First come first serve.” 

“My wife and I manage S.T.A.R. Labs on behalf of Smoak Technologies,” Will explained. “Myself on the business end and Sara as head of security and liaison to the CCPD.” 

“Smoak Technologies?” Barry asked curiously. 

“Previously Queen Industries,” Will replied. “With a brief stint as WayneTech, though that didn’t go so well. The company’s changed names so many times, personally, I find it hard to keep track. What is it in your time? Queen Consolidated?” 

“Palmer Tech,” Ray corrected, a little dejected. 

Will laughed. “Right. Felicity’s first foray into the corporate world. I’d say she does a fair job, wouldn’t you?” 

“How do you know Felicity?” Kendra asked. 

And then in dawned on Barry. “You’re Oliver’s son,” he said, before he could think to stop himself.

At this, Will laughed again. “The resemblance is all in the jaw, don’t you find?” 

“Oliver has a son?” Sara asked, taken aback. “Does he know?” 

“Only very recently, if memory serves,” Will replied. “I know I certainly didn’t, at the time.” 

“And you’ve taken up the mantle of the Green Arrow,” Ray added. 

“Three years ago, Central City was in desperate need of heroes,” Diggle explained. “Will grew up here. It’s his home. Felicity acquired S.T.A.R. Labs from Iris and we transferred out immediately. Then, we put on the masks and became Green Arrow and Black Canary 2.0.”  

“What happened to the originals?” Stein asked, concerned.  

“No, no, no,” Rip cut in. “That is enough knowledge about the future for one day.” 

“But Rip,” Sara protested. “What about Oliver? What about my sister?” 

“We lose a lot more than Laurel and Oliver to this fight.” 

Barry turned, startled by the new yet familiar voice. He turned to see Caitlin Snow entering the cortex. This wasn’t Barry’s Caitlin, though, he noted. Small lines and wrinkles had set in around her eyes and several strands of her long, light brown hair had turned silver. She cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“Reilly called me,” she said. Will and Diggle nodded in understanding. “Hi, Barry,” she continued. “Long time no see. For one of us at least.” 

“Cait,” Barry said, throat dry. “You look…” 

Caitlin barked out a laugh. “Old?” she offered. 

Barry shook his head, smile wry. “I was gonna say you look great.” 

“Sure you were,” she teased. 

As Barry and Caitlin continued to look one another over, the teenage girl with the short, blonde hair entered the cortex. She stopped beside Caitlin and quickly kissed her cheek in greeting. 

“Hey, Mom,” she said. 

“Hi, Honey,” Caitlin offered back. 

Barry’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “She’s your daughter?” 

Caitlin laughed. She and her daughter moved further into the cortex to stand before the befuddled speedster. “Reilly, this is Barry,” she introduced. “Barry, meet Reilly Raymond.” 

“Raymond?” Barry exclaimed. “Does that mean Ronnie--” 

“No,” Rip insisted firmly. “No learning about the future.” 

Caitlin leaned in and faked a whisper. “As if true love wouldn’t find a way.” 

“Is Ronald here?” Stein asked excitedly, stepping forward. 

A grimace appeared on the scientist’s face. “I’m sorry, Professor Stein,” she said. “But Ronnie died over a decade ago.” 

Barry wasn’t sure what was more heartbreaking, the tremor in her voice or the way she toyed with the wedding ring she still wore on her left hand. 

“I see,” Stein said morosely. He then turned to Reilly and eyed her, curious. “You inherited your father’s connection to the Firestorm Matrix?” he asked. 

“Something like it,” Reilly explained. “I don’t need to merge with anyone the way you do.” 

“After the incident with the singularity, Ronnie found he was able to access some parts of his Firestorm abilities without merging himself,” Caitlin explained. “It was highly unstable, so mostly he stayed in the lab with Cisco and me, but, well, there were certain occasions where his powers came of use. When he died--” 

Caitlin’s voice broke. Reilly put a hand on her arm comfortingly and took up the rest of the story. “He saved a lot of people,” she said. “But he pushed too hard. I became Firehawk in his memory.” 

“You let your child run around Central City in a unitard doing the same thing that got her father killed?” Snart quipped, eyebrow raised. 

Caitlin bristled. “She’s almost seventeen. I would hardly call that a child. And besides, she wants to be hero, to do good things. What kind of parent would I be if I tried to stop her?” 

“A responsible one,” Snart rebuked. 

Barry intervened before anyone could start yelling. “Where’s Cisco?” he asked. He was met with more heavy silence and evasive eyes. The girl with her long, black hair tied back entered the cortex during the uncomfortable silence. 

“Also dead,” she replied. “Hopefully I’m the next best thing.” She came to stand beside Reilly and Caitlin and gave a small wave. “Lydia Ramon,” she greeted. 

“I see Lisa kept up the tradition of L names,” Snart said, tipping his head toward Lydia in greeting. The Latina jolted in surprise, which caused Snart to chuckle. “You’re not fooling anyone, Kid,” he drawled. “They may be brown, but those are still Snart eyes. Also, all the gold in your costume didn’t help. How is my dear sister these days, anyway?” 

Lydia cleared her throat uncomfortably and looked away. Snart tensed at the implication. 

“Oh,” he said. 

“Snart,” Barry said softly, but the older man quickly shook his head. 

“How did--” he cleared his throat and tried again. “When did it happen?” 

“I was fifteen,” Lydia said, voice low. “They died together, Mom and Dad. There was this metahuman trying to level the city. The fight was… astronomical. Mom wasn’t always what you might call a hero, exactly, but when it counted, she was there. I think she was trying to set a good example for me.” 

“Were they married, my sister and Ramon?” Snart asked, an emotion Barry couldn’t quite identify colouring his voice. A deep ache was set in his chest at the thought of his friends dying. He couldn’t imagine what Snart must have been feeling, being that it was his sister who was dead. Barry wanted to reach out and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he refrained. 

“No,” Lydia replied, traces of a fond chuckle in her voice. “They were strictly on again off again. Still, my father never loved anyone like he loved my mother, and I think she felt the same way about him. When their bodies were found, under all the rubble, they were still holding each other.” 

Snart nodded tersely. Lydia’s face softened even further. 

“Hey,” she said. “Your sister died a hero. When people remember the Golden Glider, it’s with respect, and when I put on my costume, Goldenvibe keeps her legacy alive.” 

Snart let out a strained, but sincere chuckle. “Only Ramon’s kid would come up with some cheesy ass portmanteau as a superhero name.” 

“Watch your tone,” Mick joked, bumping Snart in the arm. “That’s your niece you’re talking to.” 

“Yeah,” Snart said, part sigh, part laugh. “I guess it is.” 

The next hero to stream into the room - and honestly, Barry thought they were coming in one at a time on purpose to keep anyone’s head from exploding - was the girl previously in the red and white suit whose ombre afro had been let out of its buns. 

“Hi, Caitlin,” she greeted with a sweet smile as she came to stand at Reilly’s side. She then turned to face the group of time travelers. “You must be Uncle Barry,” she continued. “I was too young when you disappeared to have many memories of you.” 

“Uncle Barry?” Sara repeated with a chuckle. 

“Hold on,” Barry said, brow furrowing in confusion. “But you’re a speedster too.”  

“Jaide Park-West,” the girl supplied, introducing herself with a beaming smile. 

“As in Linda Park and Wally West?” Barry asked dumbly. Jaide nodded. “Which of your parents is a metahuman? How is that even possible?” 

“Dad,” Jaide replied. “And it’s a bit of a long story.” 

“Which none of you should ever hear if you wish to preserve the timeline,” Rip interrupted. Barry wondered if he was always this uptight about the timeline, and if so, why he’d decided to mess with it in the first place.

“Short version is, Dad joined team Flash back in the day as Impulse,” Jaide explained. “I took up the name and the costume this year in his memory.” 

“Oh, God,” Barry gasped in dismay, bringing a hand up and scrubbing it over his face. “Wally’s dead too?” 

“There’s something of a widow’s club for wives of superheroes,” Caitlin morbidly joked. 

“How is Star City?” Sara asked, all the talk of dead heroes raising new questions. “If Green Arrow and Black Canary are here in Central?” 

“I wouldn’t worry,” Diggle replied. “Between Speedy, Mister Terrific, Overwatch, and Red Arrow, the city’s in good hands.” 

“What about your parents?” Sara wondered. “Dig and Lyla?” 

“Retired,” Diggle replied with a smile. “And living happily in Coast City, away from all A.R.G.U.S. or vigilante related drama.” 

It was then that the three remaining heroes joined the group. With their masks off, it was even more obvious to Barry that the two speedsters were his and Iris’s future children. They both had her high, round cheeks and sharp cupid’s bow, mixed with his own thick brows and pointed nose. The red haired girl looked oddly familiar too in a way Barry couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something in the fluidity with which her long limbs moved, or the strong cut of her jaw. 

“Hey,” Barry greeted awkwardly, offering them a hesitant smile. 

“Hi, Dad,” the woman replied. Then she grimaced. “Oh, God. That’s weird.” 

Barry let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “For me too,” he agreed, then added, tentative, “kids.”

“Barry, meet your future twins,” Caitlin said. “Dawn and Donald Allen.” 

“Though we much prefer Nora and Eddie,” Barry’s son interjected. 

“I name my kids Dawn and Donald?” Barry asked incredulously. “Who had a gun to my head when I made that decision?” 

When his question failed to garner any laughter, Barry paled. 

“Wait,” he said, panicked. “Did someone actually have a gun to my head?” 

“Mr. Allen,” Rip warned. “The more you pry into the future, the less likely any of it is to happen.” 

“Well, yeah,” Barry scoffed. “I’m definitely not naming my twins Dawn and Donald anymore.”

“We’d appreciate it,” Nora chuckled. 

“You should be so proud of them, Barry,” Caitlin said. “They’re brilliant students. Both on the Dean’s List at CCU. And they’re brilliant heroes too, just like their father. The incredible Tornado Twins.” 

“Why The Tornado Twins?” Ray wondered. 

With an exchange of smug smirks, Barry watched as the Allen twins began to run in place. As their speed increased, the air around their legs created a vortex beneath them. Both twins launched several feet into the air and began to zip around the room like miniature tornadoes. They set themselves back down on solid ground and waited for Barry to pick his jaw up off the floor. 

“Can I do that?” was the first thing he managed to say. 

Nora and Eddie both shook their heads, smiles bright, and spoke in unison. “No.” 

“So cool,” Barry muttered, only a little jealous. 

“They call me Master Fast,” Eddie said. “I’m not afraid to admit, Nora’s a little faster, so the honour of being The Flash goes to her.” 

“Why not be The Flash and, like, Lady Flash?” Ray asked. 

Nora glared. “Okay. Or, why not The Flash and Mister Flash?” she countered, arms crossing over her chest and head tilting defiantly. 

“N-no,” Ray stammered. “I just meant--” 

“Oh, I know what you just meant,” Nora cut in. “2038 and unfortunately, casual sexism is still a thing.” 

“Racism and homophobia too, in case anyone was wondering,” Jaide added. She’d perched on one of the less cluttered desks, one leg folded up, the other dangling over the edge. Reilly leaned into her side with a close familiarity that hinted at more than simple friendship. 

“Turns out people are just dicks,” Lydia said. She turned to Rip and sighed. “Please tell me that by the time humanity figures out time travel, they also figure out how to not be dicks.”  

“Well,” Rip replied. “I come from a future that’s been conquered by an immortal warlord who’s spent centuries stalking a woman and repeatedly murdering her and her lover because she does not return his affections. So, in short, people are still in fact, as you would say, dicks.” 

“Hooray,” Reilly deadpanned. 

For a moment, the room was quiet. 

“So what’s your deal, Red?” Snart asked, cutting through the silence, with a pointed look directed at the auburn haired hero. She was the only one who was yet to be formally introduced, though Barry remembered Eddie calling her Michelle. “And how did you get your hands on my Cold Gun?” 

“The name’s Michelle,” she rebuked with the same dry, sluggish tone. “And first of all, it’s  _ my  _ Cold Gun, okay? The design is far superior.” 

Snart raised an eyebrow, clearly put off by such overt criticism of his signature weapon, but let the comment slide. 

“Second,” Michelle continued. “The Cold persona is sort of my birthright.”  

Snart’s brow furrowed. “I’m not following,” he said. 

Lydia laughed. “Really?” she asked. “There isn’t something familiar around the eyes, maybe?” 

That’s when it clicked for Barry. The way she talked, the way she moved, the steely blue eyes that were always scanning, always watching, always calculating. As if seeing her wield the Cold Gun with such poise and confidence, like it was meant to be in her hands, shouldn’t have tipped him off in the first place. 

“How old are you?” Snart croaked. 

“Twenty-six,” Michelle replied, neither her voice nor her expression betraying any hint of emotion. 

Snart’s face, however, was a different matter. Barry had witnessed the same reaction twice before, first with Oliver and then with Joe when each man had been confronted with the reality of having a child whose existence had been kept secret from them. Somewhere in 2016, Leonard Snart had a four-year-old daughter whose upbringing he’d missed. Her first words, her first steps, her first blissful sleep through the night. This was something entirely different from meeting a hypothetical future child. This was real for Snart now, in the present. Barry’s heart ached for him. 

“Don’t bother with the mental math,” Michelle said. “Do you honestly think Dr. Meticulous over there would have let Cisco take me in without running my DNA three times?” 

Caitlin smiled guiltily, confirming Michelle’s statement, but Snart shook his head. 

“I’m not,” he assured. Michelle allowed him a moment of silence to collect his thoughts. “Ramon took you in?” he asked finally. 

“When I was twelve,” Michelle replied. “My mother, when you knew her, was a model. Up and coming. I don’t know if you remember her. Not that it matters. Becoming a mother derailed all that for her. She fell into drugs and then, when she was too sick to hold down any legitimate form of employment, prostitution to afford more drugs. One night, she OD’d. Needless to say, a Snart popping up in the Central City Family Services’ database attracted the attention of Team Flash. I don’t think it was exactly the kind of name recognition Mom was going for, mind you, but such is life.”  

“I do remember her,” Snart said quietly. “Corinna, right?” 

Michelle nodded. Snart let out a small, amazed chuckle. 

“You have her cheekbones,” he remarked. 

“She always said they were her best asset,” Michelle replied. “And that someday they’d be mine.” 

“Except they’re not,” Eddie interrupted. He had this look in his eyes, one Barry recognized from every time he used to look in the mirror and catch himself thinking of Iris. They were the eyes of a lovesick fool, someone who worshipped at the other person’s altar. “Michelle’s got a PhD in applied physics. She’s a genius, really.” 

“She works here at S.T.A.R. Labs,” Caitlin jumped in, pride shining in her eyes. Something about the way Caitlin had seemingly taken an almost maternal role in each of these kids’ lives seemed so right to Barry. “So does Lydia,” she added. “She’s one of the best engineers of her time. Maybe even better that her father was.” 

Snart cleared his throat with a kind of awkwardness Barry had never seen his display before. “Well,” he said. “That’s good, then.” 

After a moment of uneasy silence, he added, “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, still.” 

Michelle shrugged in the same noncommittal way Barry had seen Snart do dozens of times. “What is it they say?” she quipped. “Something about building character?” 

“So, Barry,” Caitlin began, breaking through the tension in the room. “What exactly is it that’s brought you to our time?” 

“In the year 2166, the world has been conquered by an immortal dictator by the name of Vandal Savage,” Rip explained. It sounded rehearsed, as though he’d given the explanation many times over. 

“I remember Savage,” Caitlin said. “Unpleasant guy. But I thought we’d handled him.” 

“He needs to be killed in a very specific way,” Kendra said. “By me.” 

“I’ve gone back in time and assembled a team to see to it that happens before Savage destroys the world as we know it,” Rip finished. 

“Savage is after these artifacts from the Central City Museum,” Barry picked up. “Tomorrow night, he manages to successfully get his hands on them. We were trying to get to them first.” 

“A little thievery, if you will,” Snart interjected. “For the greater good.” 

“Except you tripped the alarms,” Michelle said. “Maybe you’re not as good as Aunt Lisa built you up to be.” 

Snart scowled. “I was dealing with a futuristic system.”

“Anyway,” Barry said, bringing the conversation back on topic. “If we don’t stop the heist from going down tomorrow night, who knows how many more opportunities we’ll have to stop this guy.” 

“We’ll help you, then,” Will said firmly. “We’ll spend the day tomorrow strategizing, doing a bit of training together to work out each other’s styles, and then tomorrow night we’ll intercept the heist. Together.” 

“No, absolutely not,” Rip protested. “While I can’t go into detail, there are individuals in this room whose futures have massive impacts on the timeline. If something were to happen to any one of them, far greater miseries than Savage might befall the world.” 

“Then we won’t let anything happen,” Eddie argued. “To anyone.”  

“Sure you can make that kind of promise?” Mick asked. “Heroes in Central seem to have a habit of kicking it.” 

“People died,” Caitlin snapped. The room fell eerily quiet under her frosty glare. “Because the city’s metahuman problem got bigger than the size of the team could handle. That’s not a problem anymore.” 

“My partner didn’t mean to be crass,” Snart said, not quite an apology, but Barry could see the intention behind the older man’s words. 

“Then he should work on his interpersonal skills,” Caitlin spat. She stalked angrily towards what Barry assumed was her desk. She sat and began sifting through stacks of paperwork, pointedly ignoring the rest of the room. Over twenty years later, and still, Barry thought, no one gave a cold shoulder quite like Cait. 

Will cleared his throat uncomfortably. Then, he addressed the group of time travelers. “I’m not sure what kind of accommodations you arrived here with,” he began. “But if you need a place to be put up for the night, Smoak Technologies could arrange to do so discretely.” 

“That’s quite alright,” Rip replied. “We have everything we need aboard the ship, thank you.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Jax exclaimed. “The bunks on the Waverider are like hibernation pods. It’s claustrophobic, man. And this guy’s telling me he can hook me up with a real bed for the first time in weeks? In a swanky hotel?”

“I could have it arranged in minutes,” Will confirmed with a nod. 

“Hell, no,” Jax affirmed. “I’m taking the man up on his offer.” 

“Mr. Jackson,” Rip sighed. “It would be extremely irresponsible for any of us to venture out aimlessly into the timeline. You could disturb the course of history.” 

“No offence, Rip,” Snart drawled, slowly stalking over to stand beside the Time Master. “But if you say one more thing about maintaining the integrity of the timeline, I’m going to steal your ship and leave you here. Maybe go back in time and assassinate Nixon, just to spite you.” 

Barry couldn’t hold in an amused bust of laughter. He brought a hand up to cover his mouth as all eyes turned to him. Snart raised an eyebrow teasingly, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile. Barry felt the blush creep up his neck and into his hairline. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, feeling like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. 

From the seat behind her desk, Caitlin beamed at him, eyes soft and glistening. “Don’t be,” she said. “I’ve missed that sound.” 

A small, beeping noise broke through the tender moment. Diggle glanced down at the small band on her wrist. With the press of a button, a holographic screen came up in front of her. 

“What’s that?” Barry asked curiously. 

“I get an alert every time someone someone uses their keycard to enter the building,” Diggle explained. 

“S.T.A.R. Labs security that actually works?” Snart quipped. “We really  _ must  _ be in the future.” 

Diggle looked up from her screen, stricken, and glanced between Nora and Eddie. “It’s your mom,” she said, holograph blinking out of existence.

“Did you call her?” Nora asked her twin, panic tinging her voice. 

“I thought you were going to,” Eddie replied, equally as frantic. 

With all the commotion, no one noticed Iris arrive until a ragged intake of breath drew their attention to the threshold. There she stood, hand clasped over her mouth and body trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, unable to find her breath. “Barry?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Roy Harper back in Star City as Red Arrow, or is someone else using his codename? Do Roy and Thea get to live happily ever after (as they so desperately deserve)? You decide ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I need to take a minute to thank everyone for their wonderful feedback! You've really encouraged me and kept my motivation super high to keep working on this project. This fic is going to take more of a dip into the mature side of things than I had originally intended. Not explicit by any means, but still. Sorry to anyone who's turned off by that.  
> For everyone still on board, I'm really excited to be getting this chapter out there. I feel like the first two chapters were more exposition and world building, and this is really where we get into the meat of the story!

It took only seconds for Iris to realize she’d misinterpreted the situation, but they felt like an eternity to Barry. Seeing the hope blossom in her eyes, only to fizzle out again as she put the pieces together broke his heart. She exhaled shakily and lowered the hand still hovering near her mouth, smoothing it down the front of her fitted dress self-consciously.

“Oh,” she said, still sounding a little unsteady. “Well, obviously not my Barry.”

It did something funny to his chest, hearing her say his name like that. _My_ Barry. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure what that thing was anymore. It used to be love - deep, romantic, unadulterated love - but that didn’t quite seem to fit anymore. Still, seeing the myriad of pain she was trying desperately to shut up behind the wall of a cordial smile cut deep.

“Iris,” he said, sounding miserable. “I’m so sorry. Someone should have warned you.”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s fine. Speedsters time travel. I think I’ve been bracing myself for the possibility of something like this happening for fourteen years.”

Barry shook his head, a few stray tears spilling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Barry,” she sighed, approaching him calmly, as though he might startle, and really, Barry though, it was hardly fair. Their roles should be reversed in a situation like this. But that’s how Iris had always been. Kind, and selfless, and compassionate. So often she’d put other people’s feelings, other people’s needs, before her own. Barry was glad to see all the loss and heartache of the future hadn’t hardened her the way it had every right to.    

“Always so earnest,” Iris continued, cupping his face between her palms and wiping his tears away with gentle strokes of her thumbs. “But you don’t have to apologize. This isn’t your fault. None of it.”

She meant more than just their surprise encounter, Barry knew. He laughed wetly. “Man, do you ever know me.”

Iris smiled. “I always have,” she affirmed.

 

* * *

 

While it required some stealth, Barry was able to sneak back to the West house - now the West-Allen house - with Iris and the twins. At first, he’d worried about imposing, but three hopeful faces reassured him that any time he spent with them would be cherished like a gift, whether he was _their_ Barry or not.

“Be careful to stay away from the windows,” Iris reminded Barry after they’d snuck him in the back door. “I have the blinds drawn, but God knows what kind of heart failure we’d send the neighbours into if they saw you.”

Barry chuckled good-naturedly, but he was only half listening, distracted by all the differences in the house, some minute, others more noticeable. Most of the furniture had been replaced with what Barry assumed were more modern pieces for the time. The walls had been painted grey, the wooden banister of his childhood replaced with a metallic one. Like most things he’d observed in the future, it was more clean and streamlined. It looked a little strange, but not bad, he decided.

What distracted him most, however, were the photos on display. He took his time looking through them, which Iris and the twins were gracious enough to allow. There were several of Barry and Iris’s wedding, Iris stunning as ever in a fitted white dress and veil. Others were of the twins as babies, then as children, then as high school graduates in their caps and gowns. An old family photo on the fireplace mantle from what appeared to be Wally and Linda’s wedding had Barry’s eyes welling with tears. The entire West-Allen clan was huddled together, Linda in a stunning gown, Iris in a bridesmaid dress, Barry, Wally, and Joe in well tailored suits. Wrapped affectionately around Wally’s legs were Nora and Eddie, no older than two, in a poofy purple dress and adorable mini tuxedo respectively. They all looked so happy, it broke Barry’s heart.

Moving towards the end table, Barry picked up a framed picture of Iris in a party hat. The cake on the table before her had two big candles, a 4 and an 0, lit and waiting for birthday wishes to be made. Seated around her, smiling big for the camera, were five women Barry recognized well; Caitlin Snow, Linda Park, Felicity Smoak, Thea Queen, and Lisa Snart.

Iris peered over Barry’s shoulder at the picture in his hand. “Ah, yes,” she chuckled. “My fortieth. Thea and Felicity came in from Star City for a few days to help me celebrate. We did a bit of a girls night out, which was fun, until I realized the next morning that a forty-year-old body does not handle hard liquor the same way a thirty-nine-year-old one does. Hard to believe that was almost a decade ago.”

“Lisa was with you?” Barry asked, curious. Iris detected the hint of uncertainty in his voice, which just caused her to laugh more.

“During one of her _off_ periods with Cisco, believe it or not,” she replied. “I know she was a bit of an unconventional member of the friend group, but I really liked her. She was always so honest, despite the dishonest living she made, and I could always count on her to come through in a pinch, be it for babysitting, or a fun night out of the house, or just to be there for me and listen to my problems.”

Iris sighed and took a seat on the couch. Barry placed the photo back on the end table and sat beside her.

“I miss her,” Iris said sadly. “I miss everyone.”

Barry placed a gentle hand on her arm. “I wish there was something I could do,” he whispered.

Iris shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. She grabbed onto Barry’s hands and clasped them reverently between her own. “This,” she said. “This is more than I could have ever asked for. Getting to see my best friend again. To talk to him. I know I have more history with you than you do with me, but I don’t care, Barry. Whether it’s in 2016, or 2038, or 2062. You will always be the person I want to come home to. You’re the love of my life.”

As Iris began to sob, Barry pulled her tight into his arms. He looked up, through the tears clouding his vision, at his beautiful, incredible children who’d begun to cry as well. He ushered them forward with a nod, and immediately, each twin took a seat on either side of their parents. They sat that way together, as a small, broken, time-displaced family, and cried.

Barry had only felt this kind of grief once before, as he’d sat on the floor of his childhood home and his mother bled out in his arms, having the power to save her but refusing to use it.  

 

* * *

 

Will had managed to secure the Legends team a night in a luxury penthouse apartment downtown, owned by Smoak Technologies for the comfort and convenience of their international business associates when in the city. As soon as he was through the front door, Jax threw himself onto one of the plush-looking sofas and groaned in a way that was almost pornographic.

“This is the most comfortable thing I ever put my body on,” he sighed, eyes sliding blissfully closed.

“According to Will, the place has six bedrooms,” Sara said, hanging the key up by the door. “Rip’s insisting on staying on the ship, but that still means two of us are going to have to double up.”

Snart slid up beside the blonde and offered her a lecherous smile. “What do you say, Goldilocks?” he drawled. “Feel like a little company?”

Sara scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” she agreed. Ray seemed scandalized by this arrangement, but the rest of the team remained nonplussed.

It was already well past midnight, and the groups had agreed to meet up early the next morning at S.T.A.R. Labs, so it wasn’t long before people started heading off to bed. When Snart made a beeline from the kitchen to the nearest bedroom, Sara followed directly behind him. While he made no move to acknowledge her as she stood in the threshold, he’d left the door open, obviously knowing she would follow.

With a sigh, Sara entered the room and shut the door behind her. “So, do you wanna talk about it?” she asked.

Snart kept his back to her, rifling through a duffle bag on the large king sized bed that held a few changes of clothes. “Talk about what?” he replied.

Sara moved to the far corner of the room. She dropped her own overnight bag on a large, wingback chair and began rifling through it herself. She took out a ratty gray tank top and pair of sleeping shorts. Shamelessly, she loosened the fastenings of the White Canary top and removed it, leaving her bare chest exposed. The movement caught Snart’s eye and he glanced up. His eyes roamed over the deep cut of her Adonis belt, the defined ridges of her abs, and up to the gentle swell of her breasts. She shot him a cheeky grin, and he offered here a raised eyebrow in return. Casually, she slipped the tank top over her head, and Snart turned back to his bag.

“I mean,” Sara continued as she began tackling the rest of her costume. “Do you wanna talk about this mysterious daughter you apparently _didn’t know you had_?”

The air quotes were almost audible in her voice.

Snart tensed. “What’s it you you?” he asked coolly.

“This isn’t judgement, Len,” she replied, finally pulling her leg free from her tight pants. “It’s a friendly ear if you want someone to listen.”

Snart withdrew a pair of loose sweatpants from his duffel at last and threw them haphazardly on the bed. “Thanks,” he said. “But I think I’ll pass.”

For a while, Sara said nothing as she stepped out of her second pant leg and slid her sleep shorts up her toned legs. Snart shucked his jeans and hurriedly stepped into his sweats, fiddling with the drawstring as Sara stared him down. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to be the first to open up, the former assassin sighed and sat heavily on the end of the bed.

“When I was resurrected,” she began, voice low in the quiet of the room. “The Lazarus Pit, it did something to me. Corrupted my soul. Filled me with this bloodlust.”

Snart, who’d been packing his jeans away in his bag for far longer than could  be justified, finally did up the zipper and threw it aside. He took a seat next to Sara, saying nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“I told Rip it made me a monster, but part of me doesn’t even believe that,” she confessed. “I was a monster before I went in the Pit. Before I put on the mask and became a hero.” At that, she let out a bitter laugh. “I spent so many years fighting, and killing, and bringing darkness with me everywhere I went. Even before The League, I was a selfish coed having an affair with her sister’s boyfriend. There was nothing the Pit could have put inside me that wasn’t already there.”

A heavy silence hung in the air.

“When Laurel brought me back, I tried to stay in Star City,” Sara said. “I tried to be the person she thought I was. Because Laurel? She’s everything. She’s resilience, and light, and compassion, and virtue. She’s the epitome of everything good in the world. And I’m a stone cold killer.”

Sara wiped viciously at the corners of her eyes, scrubbing away tears. She shifted and drew her legs up, hugging them to her chest.

“I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I stayed, I would ruin her,” she admitted. “That I’d drag her down into the darkness with me. And she didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve her.”

Sara looked over at him finally and saw Snart nodding unconsciously.

“Any of that logic sound familiar?” she asked.

When Snart spoke, it was barely a whisper. “I knew it was a possibility,” he said. Something in his voice had shifted, Cold persona dropped. “I’m a man with a plan. I do things a very specific way. If,” he paused here, considering his word choice. “Mistakes,” he decided. “Are made, it doesn’t escape my notice. So yes, I knew I _might_ have a child. I just didn’t go looking into it.”

“Because if you did, that would make it real,” Sara guessed.

Snart let out a long, shaky sigh. “I didn’t want it to be,” he whispered. “And if I knew for sure, I could never have stopped myself from finding her.”

“And that would have been a bad thing?” Sara prompted softly.

“Snart men don’t exactly win father of the year,” was his only reply, a small, dismissive shrug accompanying the statement.

“I know why you felt like you had to feign ignorance for the rest of the group,” Sara said after a moment. “But if there’s anyone you never need to lie to, it’s me. And Mick. That worthlessness you’re feeling, Len, you’re not alone in. Neither of us is innocent either.”  

Snart nodded slowly. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, eyes trained to the floor. Trying to break the dour mood, Sara nudged him gently in the thigh with her foot.

“You know who else you could probably share this with?” she singsonged. Snart looked up at her, curious, and she gave him an impish smile. “Barry.”

Len tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Come again?”

“Oh, come on, Len,” Sara giggled. “You may be fooling the all heteros out there, but queer to queer? I see you, okay. You have a thing for The Flash.”

Len straightened, the tensing of his muscles visible under his long sleeved thermal shirt. Sara lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle more laughter.

“There are aspects of our dynamic I find” - a pause - “appealing,” he admitted, face impassive as ever. Sara grinned triumphantly.  

“Leonard Snart,” she teased, leaning sideways to bump him in the shoulder. His mask of composure cracked slightly, a small, embarrassed smile spreading across his face. “You are absolutely smitten with this boy.”

“I’m a grown man, Sara,” Snart grumbled. “I don’t do _smitten_.”  

Sara flopped back on the bed, smiling brightly. Her blonde hair fanned out around her face, arms resting in an arc above her head. Snart shifted to look at her, right knee coming up onto the mattress.

“For what it’s worth,” Sara said. “I’d say he’s _falling_ for you, too.”  

Snart snorted gracelessly and rolled his eyes, recalling the way Barry had fallen into him after their time jump on the Waverider. “He was off balance.”

Sara laughed. “Of course he was,” she said. “I mean, have you seen you? You’re basically sex on legs.”

A slow, wolfish grin spread across Snart’s face. In one fluid movement, he swooped forward, pinning Sara to the bed, hands bracketed on either side of her head. His weight pressed into her firmly, carnal and assertive. Snart tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, the unspoken question clear in his eyes.

Sara chuckled, moving her arms from above her head to trail her fingertips lightly down the firm muscles of his chest. “Well,” she teased. “As long as you’re offering.”

Snart, consent secured, leaned in and captured Sara’s upturned lips. The kiss was all teeth and tongues, wanton and self-indulgent. After a moment, Snart drew back. Sara was quick to reach between the press of their bodies and grab the hem of her top, pulling it over her head and tossing it away. Snart pressed their bodies even closer, shifting his weight to his left forearm. He reached down with his free hand to cup her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple teasingly.

Sara let out a sharp gasp. “That’s nice,” she breathed.

In response, Snart lowered his head to trail wet, open mouthed kisses down her neck. Sara’s back arched under his ministration. She brought a leg up to hook around his hips and he chuckled into the hollow of her throat. This prompted Sara to laugh, too.

“I’m sensitive, okay?” she defended.

Snart looked down at her impishly. “Oh,” he panted. “This is going to be fun.”

Sara pressed up into another hungry kiss and Snart’s hand began trailing lower, sliding across the hard planes of her stomach and deftly under the waistband of her shorts until calloused fingers met skin.

 

* * *

  

The following morning, both teams arrived early at S.T.A.R. Labs to begin strategizing for the impending heist that night. Barry sipped greedily at the coffee Nora had picked up from Jitters on their way to the lab. He hadn’t slept well, unable to escape the reality of his apparent future. Most of his family and friends were dead. Those left alive had been made widows and orphans, losing either one parent or both to the metahuman threats Barry had left them to fight alone when he’d disappeared. As much as Iris had spent the evening reassuring him it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt on his chest like an anvil, every breath he took a struggle against its crushing weight.

Before anyone had a chance to make idle chitchat, Will and Diggle arrived, both in immaculately tailored suits as they had been the day before. Though Barry hadn’t known them long, he understood them as a couple. They reminded him a lot of John and Lyla, in fact. Stoic and reserved with their affection in public, but irrefutably a transcendental team who operated in perfect harmony, thinking and moving like a singular unit.

“I hope the accommodations were to your liking,” Will said, after offering the room at large a friendly hello.

“Oh, I think some of us liked them a little too much,” Jax grumbled, shooting a pointed look towards Snart and Sara, who were standing side by side. “I mean, were you two even trying to be quiet?”

Sara tried to suppress a smug grin behind pursed lips while Snart turned lazily to address Firestorm’s younger half. “Children shouldn’t discuss such adult things,” he drawled.

“Fine,” Jax said. “You know what? I’ll stop discussing it when I’m not up half the night trying to block out the sound of your headboard rattling.”

Sara chuckled, ducking her head apologetically. “Sorry, Jax,” she replied, offering him a small, rueful smile.  

Snart shrugged disinterestedly. “What she said,” he added.

Barry squirmed uncomfortably as the weight on his chest squeezed his heart in a sudden vise. Snart and Sara were together? He wanted to be happy for them. He really did. Sara was an incredible woman, fierce and unyielding, but not without her share skeletons, too. She and Snart would have a certain kind of poetry together, each helping the other along their path to redemption. And so Barry wanted to be happy. Knew he should be, even. But all he could feel was the sharp sting of bereavement that stabbed at his heart, just as it had every time he used to see Iris and Eddie together. The sheer depth of his feelings for Snart caught Barry off guard. He’d known he felt something for the man, but not that it ran quite so deep.

“So,” Ray said, rubbing his hands together with anticipation and guiding the conversation back on topic. “What are we doing to get ready for this robbery?”

“I was thinking we split up,” Diggle replied. “Because there are so many of us. We can rotate through team configurations so we all have a chance to get acquainted with one another’s fighting styles.”

“A very astute plan,” Stein agreed. “Perhaps Jefferson and I will spend some time with Miss Raymond, given the similarity of our abilities.”  

“My thoughts exactly, Professor,” Diggle agreed.

“I’ll go with you guys,” Jaide volunteered. She stood to Reilly’s right, the young heroes’ fingers interlocked. “Offer a bit of a speedster perspective.”

“I’m with Team Fire,” Mick added. He raised his gun to admire it, a little too fondly, Barry though.

“Alright,” Diggle said. “You can use our bigger training room. Reilly and Jaide can take you there now. It’s been fireproofed for exactly these kinds of exercises.”

As Mick followed the rest of his group out of the cortex, Barry though he heard him mumble, “damn shame,” but he didn’t dwell on it.

“Perhaps Captain Hunter and Dr. Palmer would like to join Eddie and me on the track,” Will offered.

Eddie turned to Barry and beamed. “We renovated the pipeline and turned it into a state of the art running track,” he explained.

“So it’s not an illegal prison anymore,” Snart drawled. He shared a pointed look with Barry, and the young man felt his ears heat up with a blush.

“Iron Heights is far better equipped to handle metahuman prisoners now than it was in the early days of The Flash,” Will said, and Barry wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a defence or an apology, but wither way, Snart seemed placated.

“Lead the way, then,” Rip instructed. He’d apparently resigned himself to the team’s immersion in the timeline, wise or not. He and Ray exited the cortex behind Will and Eddie, the younger of whom was already babbling away about the pipeline’s impressive aerodynamics in spectacular Barry Allen fashion.  

“What do you say we team up, Sara to Sara?” the blonde Canary asked her namesake.

Diggle nodded. “I’d enjoy that very much,” she replied. “And maybe, Kendra, you’d like to join us?”

“Absolutely,” Kendra agreed, smiling brightly.

“I’ll come, too,” Nora said. “Make it a girls’ thing. Lydia? Michelle?”

Both women shook their heads. “We’ve been working on upgrades for the cold gun,” Lydia explained. “Have fun though.”

The four women nodded in understanding before taking their leave as well. Caitlin, Barry, Lydia, and both generations of Snarts were all that remained in the cortex. Caitlin shifted awkwardly, casting Snart furtive glances, obviously made uncomfortable by his presence.

“Maybe I should go join my partner,” Snart said evenly, posture stiff and deliberate. “He gets a little antsy in noncombustible spaces.”

Quickly, Lydia looked up from the tablet she’d begun looking through. “What?” she squeaked. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my uncle. You’re Michelle’s father. Obviously you’re staying here with us.”

Snart, expression still neutral, turned to catch Michelle’s eye. The redhead considered him for a moment before shrugging. “If that’s what you want,” she said.

Slowly, Snart nodded. He moved to sit in a plush office chair, close to the door and at great length from Caitlin’s desk.  He was at great length from everyone, Barry noticed. An outsider who didn’t quite belong. He thought about the bond he’d formed with his own children in a matter of moments, no matter how strange their situation, and he felt bad for Snart.

“So, you’re Captain Cold, too?” Barry asked Michelle, hoping to find some way to draw the father and daughter into conversation.

“Commander Cold,” Michelle corrected. She’d removed the Cold Gun from its holster and placed it on her desk, already beginning to disassemble it. “Captain Cold was a supervillain.”

Barry winced. Not the kind of interaction he’d been hoping for.

“And you’re a superhero,” Snart drawled. “A doe-eyed do-gooder, ready to lay down your life for a city full of strangers who wouldn’t do a damn thing for you in return.”

At that, Lydia snorted. “Are you kidding me?” she asked. “Michelle Snart, doe-eyed do-gooder? In what universe?”

Snart leaned forward in his chair and raised an eyebrow, curious. “Is that so?” he asked.

Michelle scoffed. “Do you honestly think I took up costumed crime fighting out of, what, the goodness of my heart? As if.”

“No,” Lydia laughed. “Because Michelle’s too good for that. Because she’s a survivor.”

Michelle rolled her eyes at Lydia’s mocking tone. “I _am_ a survivor,” she contested. “You don’t go from sleeping on the floor of a roach-infested whorehouse to having a PhD because the universe thinks you’re special. You get there by not doing stupid ass shit like playing dressup with people who want to kill you.”  

Lydia frowned. “You’re a special kind of pessimist.”

“Yeah, well, you think the world is all sunshine and rainbows, so,” Michelle shot back.

At her desk, Caitlin chuckled. “They certainly have the whole siblings thing down, don’t they?”

“We basically have been since I was seven years old,” Lydia said. “Michelle was going to university in Midway City when my parents died. She transferred to CCU as soon as it happened, so I wouldn’t have to leave home. I know any one of Dad’s friends would have taken me in, but I don’t know. Michelle’s my big sister. She’s the person I wanted looking out for me, and I knew she always would.”

Lydia looked up at Michelle reverently, and the redhead rolled her eyes.

“Right,” she said. “Which is why, when you got the quite frankly suicidal idea to become Goldenvibe stuck in that thick skull of yours, I wasn’t about to let you do it without any backup.”

“I had Will and Sara,” Lydia argued.

“That I trusted,” Michelle clarified. She looked across the room at Snart and held his gaze. “I had about as much desire to be hero as I’m sure you ever have. My emotions just happened to get the better of me.”

“Gee,” Lydia deadpanned. “Could you say that any _more_ like it’s a bad thing.”

Michelle laughed good-naturedly. “Yeah, okay,” she admitted. “Taking up the Cold persona may have started as a babysitting gig, but something about actually going out there and helping people - saving people - changed in me in ways I couldn’t go back from. I’m not just playing hero anymore. I am a hero. And I don’t need a _damn thing_ in return.”

The last sentence was spat with venom towards Snart. Michelle’s eyes were hard as she turned back to her Cold Gun, fiddling with one of the inner mechanisms. Barry glanced uncomfortably between Michelle and her father, who’d sat back rigidly in his seat, eyes just as steely as hers.

“Michelle,” Lydia said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Michelle immediately shrugged it off. “Why don’t you go join Nora and Sara?” she said flatly. “I’d prefer to work on the gun alone.”

“Okay,” Lydia replied, voice warm and even, no trace of hurt in her expression. Just patience and quiet understanding. “If you decide you want another set of hands again, just let me know.”

Michelle didn’t look up from her work, and without another word, Lydia left. She wasn’t gone long before Snart stood from his chair, eyes darting towards the exit and then back to Michelle.

“I should really go check on Mick,” Snart announced.

Michelle’s gaze stayed focused on the gun. “If that’s what you want,” she said, words echoing from earlier, voice level and cold.

Hesitantly, Snart let out a long breath. “Right, then.” He turned towards Caitlin and dipped his head. “Dr. Snow,” he said. He turned to Michelle and did the same, not that she so much as glanced up. “Dr. Snart.”

Then, Snart turned to Barry, and the look that passed between them was electric. Barry felt his heart stutter, a shiver traveling down his spine to curl his toes. His breath was caught in his throat when Snart spoke to him.

“Barry,” the older man said softly. Before Barry could collect himself enough to reply, Snart was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I really like platonic sexual partners Captain Canary. The headcanons you develop writing fic.


	4. Chapter Four

Almost a half hour passed in uncomfortable silence as Michelle worked on the Cold Gun. Barry and Caitlin kept exchanging furtive glances, but neither was bold enough to try breaking the ice. Barry, with nothing to do, had half considered leaving, as Snart had, but something held him back. The way Michelle had cut herself off, retreating into the safety of her gun, familiar and hers to control, reminded him so much of Snart. Barry had seen him time and time again dawn the mask of heartless villain any time he got too close to showing his true emotions. Barry wanted to do something to reach her, to force her to be vulnerable with him, but, like her father, Barry was at a loss as to how.

When the tension had become almost unbearable, relief presented itself in the form of Eddie Allen. The young speedster entered the room agitatedly, back in plainclothes, backpack slung over his shoulder. He threw himself gracelessly down on an office chair to Michelle’s right.  The redhead’s eyes were on him from the moment he entered the cortex, brow furrowed in concern. She pushed her gun aside and turned, giving him her full attention.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Eddie withdrew a tablet from the backpack he’d dropped to the floor and placed it on the desk in front of him. “That was a huge waste of my time,” he huffed. “Hunter spent the whole time going on and on about his precious timeline. And Palmer? While I’m sure his tech is impressive by 2016 standards, it’s about as advanced as a steam engine would be in his era.”

Michelle rolled forward in her chair, unconsciously, if Barry had to guess, to get further into Eddie’s space. She waited patiently for him to go on.

“And I have all this calculus homework due Monday,” he continued, running a hand down his face. “None of which I even remotely understand, by the way. I’m a genetics person, alright? Ask me about homologous recombination or epistatic mutations and I’ll talk circles around you. But integration of rational functions? That means literally nothing to me.

“Normally, I’ve got to sit down with this stuff for a couple of hours after a lecture to work through it on my own. Except I don’t have a couple of hours. Because tonight, some very bad people are going to rob the Central City Museum on behalf of very bad man, and if we don’t stop them, the fate of the world as we know it is pretty much doomed.

“Which,” Eddie exclaimed, jumping out of his chair and beginning to pace, on edge. Michelle stood too, moving to stand beside him. “I’m sure would be a perfectly good reason to get an extension, except I can’t exactly tell my professor that I’m Master Fast, now can I? Or that my long lost father - who was also The Flash, by the way - showed up last night in a time machine from 2016 to pitch in. Because apparently I suck at both calculus _and_ being a superhero.”

Eddie threw his left arm out in frustration. Gently, Michelle reached toward him. Barry expected her to touch his arm in reassurance, but instead, she ran a tender hand down the curve of his right side. Eddie leaned into her touch reflexively, like a magnet drawn in by the iron of her will, the steel of her bones. He took an impossible step forward until their toes bumped, the juts of knees and hips connecting. The press of their bodies was every bit as electric as Barry remembered from the museum.  

Eddie’s arm slackened and lowered, but rather than return it to his side, he angled his body to hover it around her waist. The entire exchange was a stifled embrace, charged and intimate, struggling to come to the natural fruition neither party would allow it.

“I’ll help you,” Michelle said softly, fingers stroking absently at his hip. “You may be a speedster, but when it comes to calculus, I’m the fastest person alive.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “I thought you were busy updating the Cold Gun?” he protested.

“It can wait,” she replied.

Michelle took a slow step back, withdrawing from their familiar stance. She moved to her desk and began sifting through papers. She glanced back at Eddie over her shoulder.

“We should go to Jitters,” she suggested. “Away from all the distractions going on around here.”

Dumbly, Eddie nodded, as though his brain had yet to come back online after being so solely focused on the red-haired genius. “Uh,” he stammered. “Yeah, okay.”

Michelle then turned to address Caitlin. “Will you tell Lydia we can do more work on the Cold Gun when we get back?” she asked.

“Sure thing,” Caitlin agreed, smiling sweetly.

Eddie turned as well to offer Barry and Caitlin a sheepish wave, as though he hadn’t noticed them before. Barry thought he might not have, being so preoccupied, first with his school work, and then with Michelle.

“Hey, Dad,” he greeted. “Caitlin.”

“Integration of rational functions gave me a lot of trouble when I was in university, too,” Barry offered lamely, not sure what to say.

“Right,” Eddie replied, head bobbing on autopilot. It was only as Michelle passed him on her way out that he sprang back into motion, stuffing his tablet in his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

“See you guys later,” he said. He and Michelle waved to the two scientists before taking off together, already discussing the trickier points of calculus.

“Oh, God,” Barry groaned, hand running over his face, once he was sure they were out of earshot. “Am I that obvious with my heart eyes, too?”

“There’s something about Allen men and gross pining,” Caitlin replied, sighing wistfully. “You are nothing if not transparent.”

“They obviously care about each other. A lot,” Barry said. “So, why are they--”

“Fighting their attraction tooth and nail?” Caitlin finished.

“Well, yeah,” Barry agreed, shrugging feebly.

Caitlin set aside her work aside to give Barry her full attention. “I don’t really know,” she said. “Everybody sees the chemistry they have. I mean, there are entire fan blogs on the internet dedicated to their relationship. They call them Coldfast, which is both sweet and just the slightest bit creepy.”

Barry laughed, and Caitlin did as well.

“But, I don’t know,” the doctor said again with a sigh. “There’s obviously _something_ holding them back. Which, I think, is Michelle’s baggage. There’s less than seven years between them, which is nothing now that they’re older, but, well, Eddie’s sort of been in love with her since he was eight years old. And Michelle’s always had this hang-up about never doing anything that might raise questions about her character. It never bothered Lydia that Lisa was a criminal. She grew up with Cisco. As if you could ever question your morality knowing you shared half of your DNA with a human labradoodle. But Michelle didn’t have that. Her only blood relations were criminals. I think she doubts her goodness a lot more than she lets on. And robbing the cradle? Not a good thing. Even though none of us even remotely thinks that’s what she’s doing.”

Barry nodded in understanding. He stared intently at his fingers, twiddling them nervously, before looking back up at Caitlin. “What happened to Snart?” he asked, hesitant. “In this timeline.”

Caitlin’s expression softened. “Oh,” she said. “You don’t have to worry, Barry. Michelle’s perfectly safe.”

At that, Barry bristled. He felt the angry flush climb up his neck and into his hairline, eyes hardening. “Excuse me?” he snapped. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  

Caitlin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?” she inquired.

“Why wouldn’t Michelle be safe?” Barry clarified, mouth pinched in ill-restrained fury.

“Well, with Snart’s history of childhood abuse,” Caitlin began.

Barry shook his head, irate. “Snart would never raise a hand to his daughter,” he said.

“I’m just saying,” Caitlin pressed on, still confused by Barry’s reaction. “There’s a correlation between being a victim of abuse--”

“I don’t care if there’s a correlation,” Barry interrupted. “I don’t care if there’s some kind of fundamental law of nature, okay? Snart would never even _think_ about hurting Michelle.”

Caitlin scoffed. Barry was so taken aback, he deflated in his seat. “I forgot how much blind faith you used to have in him,” she said. After a pregnant pause, she continued. “It didn’t make a difference, Barry. The good you thought you saw in Snart? It didn’t exist.”

“What happened to him?” Barry asked again, shoulders hunched, voice quiet.

“About twelve years ago,” Caitlin began. “Captain Cold and Heat Wave were involved in a robbery gone very, very bad. We tried to de-escalate the situation, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. People’s lives were at stake. Wally had to kill them both.”

A piercing pang shot through Barry’s chest at the thought.

“It drove a wedge between Cisco and Lisa for years,” Caitlin continued. “Though they eventually worked it out, in their own Cisco-and-Lisa way. But Michelle? She never gave the slightest indication of being upset about it. She knew that Wally did what he had to do to keep the city safe. She has this sort of cold detachment that I’m not sure whether I should admire or be concerned about.”

“So, a lot like Snart,” Barry joked, though his voice was strained.

“She raises serious questions about how much of someone’s personality can be genetic,” Caitlin agreed.  

“Did they ever meet?” Barry wondered.

Caitlin shook her head. “To be honest,” she replied. “I’m not sure he even knew about her. We left telling him up to Lisa. Either she did and he didn’t care, or she didn’t. Either way, they never interacted.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell her brother he had a daughter?” Barry questioned.

“I don’t know,” Caitlin shrugged. “Maybe for the same reason she only ever popped in and out of her own daughter’s life. Snarts have baggage. I don’t think Lisa had any faith they could be good parents, either.”

“But that’s bullshit,” Barry was quick to interject. “You can’t decide what kind of person someone will be based on the crappy hand they got dealt. It wasn’t their fault what they had to grow up with.”  

“No?” Caitlin questioned, eyebrow raised. “And what about after they grew up? Leonard Snart is a cold-blooded killer, Barry. Or did you forget about the security guard he murder right in front of you as some sick kind of test on your speed? How about when he kidnapped me just to get your attention? Or when he tortured Cisco’s brother to make him reveal your identity? How about that time he betrayed you at Ferris Air and let dangerous metahumans loose into the city? Barry, he murdered his own father. How are you still so blind to the kind of person this man really is?”

A thick, heavy lump of guilt settled in Barry’s throat. He felt tears sting at the back of his eyes as Caitlin ran through Snart’s unsavoury history. It wasn’t as though Barry was ignorant to Snart’s past. He just forgot sometimes. He saw Snart as a man of honour, a man who would keep Barry’s identity safe, who would risk being put back in prison to warn him of danger, who would walk through fire without a second thought to protect his sister. The man Caitlin had described was lost to Barry under the facade of the man he’d built Snart up to be. He didn’t want to think that Caitlin might be right, that Snart really didn’t have any good in him. Because he saw something beneath Snart’s cold exterior. And that man, Barry knew, was worthy of blind faith.

“Cait,” Barry croaked. “You don’t see Snart the way I do, okay? He has the potential to be somebody extraordinary.”

Caitlin tilted her head doubtfully, so Barry pressed on. “You’re living in a version of the timeline where Rip Hunter never came back to stop Savage. The Snart you think you know, the one Wally killed, never had the opportunity to live up to all that potential. But he does now. He has a real opportunity to change.”

Caitlin shook her head. “People don’t change, Barry,” she sighed. “I mean, look at Ronnie. He was selfless, and brave, and even though he had people who loved him and depended on him, he sacrificed himself for this city more times over than anybody should have the right to. That was his nature, Barry. He was a hero, and I couldn’t stop him from being one any more than I could have stopped the tides.”

“If you really believe that, Caitlin,” Barry said, pleading in his voice. “Then you need to believe that there’s still something good left in Snart to bring out. If people don’t change, then there are still remnants of the innocence he used to have before the world forced him to stomp it down, Cait. There has to be.”

“Leonard Snart has done terrible things, Barry,” Caitlin insisted, the speedster’s plea falling on deaf ears. “Things there is no coming back from. Things even your wide-eyed optimism can’t offer redemption for. It’s a lesson you never learn in my version of the timeline. Hopefully this time around, you’ll learn it in yours.”    

Caitlin turned back to her work, effectively putting an end to the discussion. Barry fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat for a moment before coming to a stand. He looked awkwardly between Caitlin and the door.

“I think I’m gonna go take a walk,” Barry said when Caitlin remained silent. “Stretch my legs.”

“Okay,” Caitlin replied. She seemed to have nothing else to say, but as Barry turned to leave, she spoke again. “Barry, wait,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to be so negative. This may be the last time I ever see you. I don’t want us to be on bad terms. I was just trying to be realistic.”

Barry gave a slow nod. “I know,” he replied. “It’s okay, Caitlin. No hard feelings, I promise.”

“Good, then,” Caitlin sighed. “Enjoy your walk.”

“Enjoy your work,” Barry offered back. The pair shared a lighthearted laugh before Barry turned again, exiting the cortex.

 

* * *

 

While Snart had had every intention of going to check on his partner when he’d left Michelle’s frigid company, he instead found himself in a small training gym he’d stumbled upon along the way. He’d spent the last forty-five minutes locked in combat with a punching bag designed to hold up against a speedster, if the sharp pain in his knuckles was anything to go by. A wiser man would have stopped long ago, and while Snart was usually a wiser man, something about his interaction with Michelle left him rattled. He was about to finally give in to pain and exhaustion when the door swung open and Barry Allen ducked inside.

“Oh,” Barry said dumbly, halting in his tracks. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here. I can go.”

Barry was quick to take hold of the doorknob again, but Snart stopped him. “It’s fine,” he said, voice gravelly. “Don’t let my presence chase you out.”

“That’s not it,” Barry protested. “I just don’t want to get in your space.”

Snart shrugged. “Plenty of room here for two.”

Barry nodded cautiously, he and Snart still staring one another down. He shuffled to the side of the room and stripped out of his hoodie, leaving him in a S.T.A.R. Labs t-shirt and a well-fitting pair of jeans. He positioned himself at the only other available punch bag, to Snart’s left, and took a half-hearted swing. Snart snorted, which Barry chose to ignore. Instead, he widened his stance and jabbed out quickly, motion a blur with his super speed.

The two men continued training in silence for a few long moments, made only longer by the not-so-subtle glances Barry kept throwing Snart’s way. The older man waited for the speedster to break, and eventually, he did.

“So,” Barry said lamely, going for conversational and missing the mark by an embarrassing margin. “You and Sara.”

“What about me and Sara?” Snart replied, face expressionless.

Barry shrugged. “Just, this morning,” he replied. “Sounds like the two of you are dating. Congratulations, I guess.”

Snart scoffed. “Scarlet,” he drawled. “I’m getting laid, not getting married. Your well wishes are a tad misplaced.”   

“Right,” Barry said, looking quickly down at his feet, mortification practically radiating from his pores.

Snart sighed. He grabbed the bag in front of him to still it and turned to face the younger man. “Sara and I are not dating,” he clarified. “We are, however, highly sexually compatible.”

“Oh,” Barry mumbled. “So you don’t like her?”

At that, Snart laughed outright. Barry shrunk in on himself, feeling stupid, and Snart quickly intervened. “I like her plenty,” he explained. “I think she’s got a lot of spunk. That doesn’t mean I have any romantic interest in her.”

Snart paused, contemplating whether or not he should say any more. Barry waited patiently, face soft and open, not wanting Snart to share any more than he was comfortable with, but wishing all the while that he would.

“I’ve never had many hang-ups about who I take to bed with me,” he said after a moment. “If I find a person attractive, then they’re my type, you know? But for all that attraction, romance has never really been my thing, as a general rule.”

Barry nodded understandingly, though Snart’s eyes were focused somewhere around his knees. The motion caused his head to jerk up, and when the two men locked gazes, Barry felt a bolt of white hot heat shoot through his stomach. His breath hitched, and Snart’s tongue darted out to gently trace over his lower lip.

“Of course, I’ve never been very good with rules,” Snart breathed. Barry could practically feel his insides melting, his whole body drawing tight like a bowstring. He wanted so badly to reach out and twine his fingers through the hair at the nape of the older man’s neck. Wanted to press their lips together and feel the lightning course between the press of their mouths.

With a jolt, Barry remembered the same intensity passing between his son and Snart’s daughter, an intensity they would never share if Barry chose anyone but Iris, no matter how he felt about the other man. So, Barry shifted his stance, schooled the open expression on his face into something more guarded. Snart noticed the change immediately and shifted as well, returning his focus to the punching bag before him. Barry followed suit.  

“Besides,” Snart said dismissively, startling Barry. “Our dear Canary is still caught up on her assassin ex-girlfriend.”   

Barry nodded in understanding but said nothing, punching ahead furiously. After the long stretch of uncomfortable silence fell into something more companionable, Barry risked starting up conversation again.

“Don’t worry about Michelle,” he said. Snart’s rhythm faltered, but Barry pressed on. “When Iris’s mom came back into her life late last year, we found out she’d had a son none of us knew about. At first, Wally was really hostile towards Joe. It was a really tough situation they were both suddenly forced into. But they worked it out. I’m sure Michelle just needs to process everything that’s going on, like Wally did.”

“That’s quite the heartwarming story, Kid,” Snart replied. “But I’m no Joe West.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Barry asked, brow furrowing.

“Come on, Barry,” Snart said. “Joe’s a good man. Devoted father, first-rate detective, all around saint. If you hadn’t noticed, we couldn’t be less alike.”

Barry shook his head. He stared Snart down until the other man met his gaze. “You’re a better man than you think, Snart.”

Snart scoffed and shook his head. “You really can’t let that idea go, can you?” he chuckled.

Barry chuckled too. “I’m stubborn,” he replied with a mischievous smile.

“I’ve noticed.”

The pair exchanged easy smiles, eyes lingering dangerously. Abruptly, Barry cleared his throat and turned back to his punching bag. Snart’s eyes remained focused on him, though his demeanor became more hesitant.

“So,” he began, uncertain. “In this version of the future, you go missing?”

Barry glanced over, surprised by Snart’s concern. “Um,” he replied. “I guess so. Seems like that’s my destiny.”

“Yeah, well,” Snart said. “I think the whole concept of destiny is bullshit. Your future’s what you make of it, Kid. You have an opportunity to save yourself.”

“It’s not that simple,” Barry argued.

“Like hell it isn’t,” Snart snapped. “Have you even asked anybody about what happens to you?”

“Look,” Barry said. “I can’t, okay? I can’t - shouldn’t - mess with the timeline. Rip’s right. I can’t interfere with the natural progression of history. I have to go missing so the timeline can be preserved.”

“Don’t start toeing Hunter’s sanctimonious party line,” Snart growled. “The only timeline that man has any interest in preserving is one where he gets to live happily ever after with his wife and child. Whether or not he saves the world in the process is just icing. And I’m not here to lay judgments on the man. The length he’s willing to go to save his family is admirable. All I’m saying is that if Hunter can steal a time ship, defy his bosses, and change the timeline for his own selfish gain, I can’t think of any reason why you shouldn't be able to do the same. So that you can live happily ever after with your wife, and your children. If anyone deserves it, it’s Central City’s beloved hero.”

“You think I want to go missing?” Barry snapped, startling Snart with his intensity, though the other man tried not to show it. “To just disappear into time. To not have my family or friends know what happened to me? To miss everything? All of this? My children growing up without me? My friends dying while they’re out defending the city I left them alone to protect? If I could just snap my fingers and change all of that, don’t you think I would? Why the fuck would I not, if it were that _fucking_ simple?”

Tears had pooled in the corners of Barry’s eyes. Snart’s features softened, a crease furrowing his brow, as he looked at Barry with concern. His posture coaxed Barry’s anger to rush out of him in one swoop, leaving him deflated, shoulders hunched.

“Then what’s stopping you?” Snart asked quietly.

Barry blinked heavily, tears sliding down his cheeks. “When the singularity opened over Central City, it was my fault. I went back in time, to when I was eleven. To the night the Reverse Flash murdered my mother.”

Barry sniffled and wiped at his eyes before continuing. “I could have stopped him. I could have saved her. But if I had, nothing in my life would have been the same. Joe and Iris would have never taken me in. I might never have met Cisco or Caitlin. Hell, I might never have become The Flash. My life had so much tragedy in it, but it was still my life. Still the life I would choose, no matter what it meant losing. So I let him kill her.”

Barry’s voice broke as he uttered the final statement. All Snart could do was stare at him with warmth in his eyes. Barry though it was as good as any touch he’d ever received.

“She died in my arms,” he said finally. “I tried to tell her that it was okay. That it was me and that I was fine and Dad was fine and we were all going to be okay. But she was losing so much blood. I don’t even know if she understood me.”

“She did, Barry,” Snart said softly.

Barry let out a pathetic laugh. “Yeah?” he said. “How would you know?”

“You’ve got the eyes of an honest man, Kid,” Snart replied. “She knew.”

Barry nodded gratefully before wiping at his eyes again. He turned and gave Snart a watery smile, though the whole thing felt bittersweet.

“That’s why it’s not that simple,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “If I refused to change the timeline to save my mother’s life, how could I justify changing it now?”  

In response, Snart said nothing. The pair instead stood in silence, the heat of their gazes burning away the room’s oxygen until Barry felt the suffocating ache so deep he thought he might scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another unexpected headcanon is that Len is grey-romantic maybe...?


	5. Chapter Five

Eddie sighed in deep satisfaction, setting his tablet gently down on the table. Perched on the chair to his right, Michelle laughed. She tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear and stood, grabbing their mugs. 

“See,” she joked. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

“No,” Eddie laughed, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “Not at all.”  

“I’ll be back bearing more coffee,” Michelle said as she stepped away from the table. 

“Yes, please,” the speedster chuckled. He busied himself returning the tablet to his bag. Michelle wasn’t gone long before returning with two steaming mugs of caffeinated goodness. She placed one mug down in front of Eddie before rounding the table to take the seat across from him. The younger man picked his drink up with one hand and guzzled it greedily. 

Michelle laughed. “You might want to slow down on the caffeine,” she drawled. “Lest you start running a little too  _ fast _ .” 

Eddie caught the pun immediately and shot her an unimpressed looked. “Not your best work,” he critiqued. 

Michelle shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s been a weird day,” she replied. 

“About that,” Eddie said. He looked at Michelle cautiously over the rim of his mug. While he’d been wound up when he found her in the cortex, he hadn’t missed the frigid attitude she’d been quick to put aside. Michelle sighed heavily and rested an elbow on the table, her neck resting in the cradle of her palm. 

“Pretty crazy,” the speedster continued. “Both of our fathers being back in our lives all of a sudden.” 

“They’re not back in our lives,” Michelle corrected immediately. “They’re here on a brief mission from the past. It’s hardly the same thing.” 

Michelle noticed Eddie shift uncomfortably in his chair and was quick to soften. “Which can’t be easy for you,” she added. “Talk to me.”

“No, I mean,” Eddie began. “I’m glad he’s here, you know? Even if he’s not really my dad, exactly. He’s who my dad used to be. Which is more of my dad than I’ve had in the past fourteen years.” 

Michelle nodded. She could see the younger man had more he wanted to say, so she waited for him to continue. It was never hard to get Eddie to open about his feelings, and he soon broke the silence. 

“It’s just a little bittersweet, you know?” he added. “It feels like we finally have him back, and knowing that he’s just going to leave again so soon? I don’t know. It’s sad, I guess.” 

“Of course it’s sad,” Michelle sympathized. She reached across the table and took hold of Eddie’s hand, thumb running reassuringly over his knuckles. He turned his palm up to link their fingers together, and Michelle offered him a sad smile. 

“Your father means the world to you, Eddie,” she continued. “He’s your hero. It’s not fair that you have to lose him again. I’m happy you get this time with him, I am. I’m just sorry it’s going to come at the expense of the fourteen years of healing you’ve done.” 

“And what about you?” Eddie asked. Michelle tensed, and this time it was the speedster whose thumb stroked reassuringly against the doctor’s hand. Her posture relaxed under his touch, though she was still a little stiff.  

“I didn’t have the same relationship with my father that you did with yours,” Michelle replied, shrugging. “He was always just your average, run-of-the-mill criminal to me. My relation to him doesn’t sway my feelings one way or the other.” 

Eddie raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Really,” Michelle assured him. “I don’t think I’m giving him special treatment, or being overly harsh. I’m impartial. I examined the facts and formed an opinion. Objectively.” 

“You can’t apply objectivity to family, Michelle,” Eddie argued. 

“He’s my genes,” Michelle said quickly, withdrawing her hand from his and straightening in her chair. “Cisco and Lydia. They’re my family.”

“No, hey, of course they are,” Eddie said, leaning forward to hold her gaze earnestly. “Michelle, I’m not trying to invalidate the life you’ve built for yourself, okay? I just think that maybe you’re being a little too dismissive of the opportunity you have in front of you. You have a second chance. You could get to know him. Maybe you’ll find there’s good in him after all.” 

Michelle scoffed. “How would you know?” she quipped. 

Eddie’s gaze softened, and he took her hand again. “He made you, didn’t he?” 

Finally, Michelle deflated. If Eddie was an open book, then she was a diary under padlock. It took a gentle touch to pick your way in, if you weren’t one of the rare few who’d been given their own key. Eddie still wasn’t quite sure which camp he fell into.   

“Your father used to give me the same spiel,” the redhead said with a dry chuckle. 

Eddie immediately perked up. “What?” he chirped. 

Michelle smiled sadly. “Yeah,” she affirmed. “There were a few weeks between when Cisco took me in and when he disappeared. He used to tell me almost every day, about how much of a good man my father was. He was just lost. Hurting. But there was good in him.” 

Her laugh was bitter, head shaking, lips curled in disgust. “I was a twelve-year-old kid,” she continued. “And Central City’s greatest hero told me my father was a good man. Of course I believed him. I believed in Captain Cold because The Flash believed in him. And The Flash had to be telling the truth, right? Heroes are righteous and true. They don’t feed kids false promises so that later, the world can rip those promises away from them.” 

“Michelle,” Eddie breathed, fingers brushing gently against hers. 

Michelle used her free hand to wipe at the corners of her eyes where tears had gathered. “Aunt Lisa would talk about him sometimes, too. Not often, but still. And while I’m sure her idea of child-friendly stories involved way too much illegal activity, she always made him out to be a good guy, too. A sort of black knight, if you will.

“After he died, though,” she said, voice quiet. “She stopped talking about him altogether. So, I went looking for answers myself. Which is when I realized that, my whole life, people had been lying to be about who my father really was. He wasn’t the suave kingpin my mother claimed he was, or the morally ambiguous thief from my aunt’s stories, or even the good man trapped in a tough situation The Flash had promised me. He was a murderer, and a crook, and a supervillain. Point-blank, full stop, end of story.” 

Michelle took a long, slow sip of coffee, taking a moment to cool off. She lowered her mug back to the table and snorted tersely. “You know,” she said. “The saddest part of that whole damn story is that, all these years later, I still haven’t been able to shake the sound of your father’s voice swearing to me that my father was worth something. Every time I’d try to write him off, try to be impartial, there was Barry Allen, whispering in my ear.  _ He’s a good person, Michelle. He just needs someone to believe in him. Can you do that? _ ” 

Michelle let out a small, desperate whine, and Eddie’s face crumpled, a reflection of hers. He gripped her hand tighter and let her grip back until her knuckles were white. “And I wanted to,” she whimpered. “In the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I still wanted to. Part of me just couldn't let go of the idea that The Flash was right. That there was something I wasn’t seeing. But here he is, my father, the same man The Flash claimed to see so much good in, and he’s exactly what history says he was. Cold, and self-serving. The world is his to take from as he pleases, and people don’t matter if they have nothing to offer him. He  _ is  _ a villain. And I’ve spent my whole life deluding myself.”   

Eddie shook his head vehemently. “Michelle,” he said, her name sounding like a plea on his lips. “You can’t know that for sure. You haven’t even talked to him.” 

Michelle started to protest, but he cut her off. “Properly,” he clarified. “Alone. I mean, did you even consider that maybe he’s coming off cold and self-serving because you make him feel inadequate?” 

“As if,” Michelle scoffed. 

“I’m serious, Michelle,” Eddie insisted. “He wouldn’t be the only Snart prone to putting up a cold front and getting aloof as all hell when feeling vulnerable. I’m afraid you’ve come by that one honestly.” 

“What?” Michelle snapped. “I do not--” 

She cut herself off mid-sentence, head tilting in thought. Then, she sighed heavily and slumped her shoulders. “Alright,” she said. “Fine. Maybe I do.” 

Eddie sighed. He sat back in his seat and finished off the rest of his coffee in one long sip. He returned his mug to the table and gave Michelle a small, sad smile. “I just don’t want to see you miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity because you’re being stubborn. I know you’re hurting, Michelle. And I know that when you’re hurting, you go cold. But I’m begging you not to this time. Because you don’t have the time to wait until you thaw out. This chance is fleeting. And I want you to have it.”

“I know,” Michelle whispered, voice trembling. “It’s just.” She trailed off, lost for words.  

“Hard?” Eddie supplied. Michelle nodded. “I know. But I think it’s worth it.” 

They were quiet for a moment, Michelle obviously considering Eddie’s words. When it became apparent she was still undecided, the speedster made one last attempt. “Listen, Michelle,” he said, squeezing her hand. “If my father was wrong about him - if I’m wrong - I will help you get through that. I promise. I won’t leave you alone in this.” 

Their eyes locked across the table. His were gentle and unwavering. Hers were wet with unshed tears and shining with esteem. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, remarkably quiet, as though it was a secret they were sharing. 

His voice was as hushed as hers, and every bit as intimate. “Any time.”  

* * *

 

At twenty to noon, Barry found himself alone in the cortex. Caitlin had gone for an early lunch, frustrated by whatever project she had been working on. She wouldn’t let Barry take too close a look, lest he return to 2016 and invent a whole new branch of science twenty years too early. He was tinkering aimlessly with what he thought may have been a circuit board, sure he was messing up the future technology beyond repair, when Eddie entered the room. 

Barry looked up and smiled, pushing the tech aside. “Hey,” he greeted. 

“Hey, Dad,” Eddie returned, smiling too. 

“Did you figure out your calculus?” Barry asked. 

Eddie took a seat in the chair beside him. “I did,” he replied. “Michelle was a huge help.” 

“Where is she?” Barry asked, craning his next to peek outside. 

“Gone to find Lydia,” Eddie said. “They have to get the upgrades finalized on the Cold Gun before tonight.” 

“It was nice of her to take the time out to help you,” Barry said, fishing for a bit of firsthand information about their relationship. 

Eddie smiled. “I’d do the same for her,” he replied. “Not that I could ever teach her calculus. But for something else, definitely.” 

“She seems nice,” Barry said, but something in his eyes must not have fully sold it, because Eddie laughed outright. 

“She is,” he promised. “I know she seems a little frosty, but it’s all part of her charm. Once you figure out how to appreciate the whole glacial, holier-than-thou thing she’s got going on, she’s really a great person.” 

Barry chuckled at Eddie’s less than flattering description. “It’s so weird,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You’re basically describing her father.”  

“Michelle told me the two of you had history,” Eddie said softly. 

“I don’t know if you’d call it history,” Barry argued. “I mean, I guess. We’ve been enemies, and then weird sort of allies. Maybe even friends. Or at least something like it.” 

Barry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know that there’s more to him than what he wants everyone to think,” he continued. “That he’s a better man than he turned out to be in this timeline. I have faith in him. If that’s history, then yeah. We have history.” 

The two were quiet for a moment. Then, Eddie leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. “Man,” he sighed. “Like father like son, it seems.” 

“What?” Barry asked, looking over at Eddie, brows furrowed. 

“Two generations of Allens hopelessly in love with two generations of Snarts,” Eddie explained, threading his fingers together and resting them on his stomach. “It’s almost poetic, except that it’s actually pitiful.” 

Barry almost choked on air. “I’m not in love with--” 

“Don’t even bother trying to lie to me, Dad,” Eddie interrupted. “I’m not stupid. And, according to Mom, you’re crap at it anyway.” 

Barry huffed. “Am I that transparent?” he asked in a whisper, sounding a little miserable. 

Eddie shrugged. “You’re less obvious than you could be, especially if everyone’s anecdotes are to be trusted,” he replied. “But I can still see it. Maybe because I know what being in love with a Snart looks like firsthand.” 

“I’m really not sure if I’m in love with him,” Barry insisted. 

“But you do care about him,” Eddie said. “A lot.” 

Barry just nodded. 

Eddie chuckled. “Can I offer you a suggestion?” 

“Sure,” Barry replied, smile wry. “Why not?” 

“Go for it,” Eddie said. 

“What?” Barry croaked, taken completely aback.

“Whatever thing you have going on with Snart,” Eddie elaborated. “Go for it.” 

“Eddie, I can’t,” Barry argued, face twisted unpleasantly. “If Snart and I get together, it means Iris and I don’t. Which means that you, and Nora, and this entire future won’t exist.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Eddie scoffed, sardonic. “I know what it would mean losing. Because I have had an amazing life, okay? I grew up safe, and secure, in a stable home surrounded by people I loved who I knew loved me right back. But Michelle? She spent the first twelve years of her life with almost none of that. And she deserved it. All of it, and so much more. If I could give her everything I ever had - my whole life - I would. Except I can’t.” 

Eddie’s eyes were glistening when he turned to stare Barry down. He looked almost desperate. “But you can,” he said. 

“You’d give up everything for her,” Barry realized, voice a soft whisper, full of awe. This wasn’t a fleeting crush or youthful infatuation. This was love, deep and pure. 

“It’s not even a question,” Eddie agreed, nodding solemnly. 

Barry ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Eddie,” he said. “I don’t know. This decision is so huge. I can’t even imagine what all the repercussions would be. I mean, when you mess with the timeline, bad things tend to happen. What if I bring about, like, the end of the world, or something?” 

“You think following your heart would be the end of the world?” Eddie deadpanned. 

Barry sighed. “I don’t even know what my heart wants anymore,” he admitted. “That’s the problem.” 

“It’s because your head won’t shut up,” Eddie said. “Forget about all the pressure. All the what-ifs. Forget about the rest of world. And, for the love of God, forget about  _ this  _ future you think you’re obligated to. Ours hearts are always telling us what they need. We’re just not always ready to listen.” 

Before either man could say another word, Iris appeared in the threshold. She smiled brightly as she saw father and son sitting together, bonding. Barry smiled back at her and the group exchanged greetings.  

“I know I had to go into work this morning,” Iris said. “But I was hoping you might want to have lunch together.” She held out a white plastic bag filled with takeout containers in offering. “I brought Thai food.” 

She’d spoken to the both of them, but Barry could tell by her posture she wanted some time alone with her future husband. Fortunately, Eddie picked up on the subtle cue as well. 

“I was actually going to run to the deli downtown and pick up a few sandwiches for Michelle and Lydia,” he said, coming to a stand. “They’ll be working on the Cold Gun soon, and you know how laser-focused they can get.” 

Iris chuckled. “Hey,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” 

Eddie bid both his parents a quick goodbye before zipping out of the lab at super speed. Barry stood from his seat as well and stretched his limbs. 

“There’s a room down the hall with a bit more privacy,” Iris suggested. Barry nodded and let her silently lead the way. 

They settled into the vacant room, desks piled with high research, equations scrawled on free-standing dry erase boards. Barry and Iris sat across from one another, divvying up the contents of the takeout containers. The harsh fluorescent lighting accented the thin lines just starting to appear at the corner of Iris’s eyes. Barry thought she still looked every bit as beautiful as she did back in 2016. 

“How was your day?” Barry asked, catching a bean sprout between his chopsticks. 

“Good,” Iris replied, all smiles. “I had an exclusive interview with the mayor this morning about her new economic plan.” 

“The mayor,” Barry exclaimed. “Iris, that’s fantastic! You really are an incredible journalist. I always knew you would be.” 

Iris flushed in embarrassment. “It always meant the world to me that you did,” she replied. 

“But even if I hadn’t, you’d still have kicked ass, taken names, and looked great doing it, right?” Barry joked. 

Iris giggled. “Of course,” she replied. She took a bite of her drunken noodles and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “And, how was your day?” 

“Strange,” Barry said, a little hesitant.

“Oh?” Iris asked, eyebrow quirked.  

Barry furrowed his brow. He wasn’t sure how much of his feelings he was willing to share with Iris.  _ This  _ Iris, who was his wife, essentially his widow, and the mother of his children. 

“Barry,” Iris chastised. “You know I can tell when you’re trying to keep things from me?”  

The speedster laughed. “Of course you can,” he deadpanned. Then, he became serious again. He bit his lip contemplatively. “I don’t know, Iris,” he continued after a moment. “Everything about being here is just so weird. It’s a lot to process. I get why Rip didn’t want any of us to know about our futures. I’ve had more anxiety about screwing something up today than I have the whole time I’ve been The Flash. It’s a lot of pressure.” 

“What in particular are you anxious about screwing up?” Iris asked. 

Barry shrugged. “Nothing,” he lied. “I just meant in general.” 

Iris fixed him with an unimpressed stare. “Barry,” she admonished. 

Barry let out a strained breath. He dropped his chopsticks into his food and rubbed his hands agitatedly through his hair. “I don’t know if this is something I should share with you, Iris,” he said. 

“There isn’t anything you can’t share with me, Barry,” Iris replied. “I’m your wife.” 

“Exactly,” Barry snapped. “Which is why I can’t tell you.” 

The room fell eerily silent. Iris started at Barry, shocked by his outburst. He took up his chopsticks again to pick at his meal, eyes downcast in shame. To his surprise, when he looked up again, instead of being angry or upset, Iris was instead giving him a knowing look. 

“So this is about Leonard Snart,” she said. 

Barry’s eyes widened comically. “What?” he squeaked. “H-how did you--”

“I’m not stupid, Barry,” Iris interjected before he could continue his nervous rambling, and wasn’t that just like déjà vu all over again. “I know how you felt about him. Or  _ feel _ , I guess. That one year at Christmas when he broke into our house? Yeah, that whole interaction was about twenty percent genuine animosity, eighty percent sexual tension.” 

Barry burst into a fit of laughter, Iris soon joining in. “Iris,” he exclaimed, blush furious. 

“I call it like I see it, okay?” was Iris’s reply. 

The pair was quick to sober, realizing the implications of what was being said. They were really having this conversation. 

“When we first found Michelle,” Iris said softly, smile tight and sad. “You were so protective of her. So attached. Those first few nights, you spent more time with her than you did your own children. You said it was because of how much she reminded you of yourself. A young kid, mother dead, father at odds with the law, being taken in by a single father and his only daughter. There was a certain resemblance in your histories. Except that wasn’t the only reason you cared so damn much about what happened to her. Because in so many other ways, she wasn’t you. She was a troubled kid who’d had to grow up too fast, in an unstable home, with a parent who’d hurt her instead of nurtured her. You never said, but I knew. You looked at her, and you saw him. She was a version of Leonard Snart that you could save.” 

Barry drove the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing away the tears that had gathered there as Iris spoke. 

“You used to tell her all about him,” Iris continued. “About the good man he was under the cold exterior. That all he needed was for someone to believe in him. You went missing a few weeks later, and honestly, Barry, I wonder all the time if things would have been different if you hadn’t. If you’d have finally gotten through to him. I think you might have, if only because you were sure you would.” 

Iris chuckled, the sound bittersweet, and Barry couldn’t help but join in. 

“You were always so stubborn, Barry,” she laughed, voice a little wobbly. “God. I used to wish sometimes that you’d have given up. Not just on Snart, but on everything. On your whole crusade, on being The Flash. We lost so much because of how stupid, and kind, and self-sacrificing you were.” 

“Would you change things?” Barry wondered. “If you could go back? Would you change your past? Our past?” 

“Never,” Iris said quickly, confident and firm. “Our lives have been so full of pain, and loss, and heartache. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I have two beautiful children that I adore more than my own life. They are happy, and healthy, and such,  _ such  _ good people, Barry. I couldn’t be more proud. I have a wonderful job that pays me well and gives me purpose. I have amazing friends, not all of whom are still with me, but whose memories I will cherish as long as I live.” 

She reached forward and took Barry’s hand in her own. Their tearful gazes met, and Iris sniffled sadly. “And I spent six precious years married to the man whose life has been interwoven with my own since we were eleven years old. If it were up to me to go back and change things, I wouldn't even consider it. And I know you - the you that I married, the you that went missing in 2024 - wouldn’t either.” 

Barry nodded morosely. Iris had just affirmed every argument he’d had against changing the past. He knew what he needed to do. Stay the course. Don’t think about Snart. 

“But it wasn’t up to me,” she whispered, voice cutting through the quiet. Barry’s head snapped up to look at her. His expression was mostly that of shock, but he knew a small, traitorous part of himself had let some hope bleed into the eyes. 

“In this version of the timeline,” Iris continued. “Rip Hunter never went back in time. Leonard Snart was never picked to be part of his crew. He was never presented with this kind of opportunity to live up to all the good you saw in him.” 

Iris cleared her throat, looking up and blinking tears from her eyes. She looked back down and across the table at Barry, offering him a watery smile. “When I said you weren’t  _ my  _ Barry, Barry, I meant it,” she said. “You’re never going to be my husband. And I’m never going to be your wife. We don’t live in the same timelines anymore. Even if you do go back to 2016 and marry  _ your  _ Iris, it won’t ever be exactly the same. We won’t ever be exactly the same. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

“I think so,” Barry croaked. He didn’t elaborate, though. He needed to hear her say it. 

“I love you, Barry,” Iris whispered. “So much. All I want is for you to be happy. And maybe, in this new version of the timeline, one where Snart gets his redemption, he’ll be able to make you happier than I ever could.” 

Barry was quick to shake his head. “No, Iris,” he said, adamant. “Not happier. Nobody could ever make me happier than you.” 

They stared at one another meaningfully for several long, charged moments. Finally, Barry spoke again. “Maybe just happy in a different way,” he offered with a small, apprehensive shrug. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Iris ran her forefingers under her eyes, carefully wiping away the last of her tears. She looked over at Barry and tried for a cheerful smile. It was almost believable. 

“Your pad Thai’s getting cold,” she warned. 

“Thanks,” Barry replied. The response was simple enough, but the look they shared was weighty, and the subtext understood. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, the end is nigh. Just one more chapter after this one! I would just like to say thank you to everyone who's been reading and leaving kudos and comments. You're all great and give me life.  
> Small, side note. Is anyone else as emotionally invested in Michelle and Eddie as I am? Let me know so I feel less alone.

A mere two hours before Savage’s heist was set to begin on the Central City Museum, both teams met in the cortex to finalize their plan. Using the information Gideon had on file, they had a fairly clear idea as to what they would be up against. Savage’s people were highly skilled, trained, and organized. But so were they. Skilled and trained, at least. Organized had yet to be proven. 

“My crew will return to the ship and make their final preparations,” Rip said once Will had finished running down their strategy. “We will meet back here at S.T.A.R. Labs within the hour.”

“It’s a plan,” Will agreed, nodding decisively.

As both teams moved to take their leave, Michelle cleared her throat, the sound full of awkward energy. All eyes fell on her, but she only stared back at Snart. 

“Could we have a minute?” the redhead asked, posture and expression guarded. Slowly, Snart nodded. Both present and future teams quickly slipped away, sensing their need for privacy. Barry kept his eyes on Snart until he was out of sight, unsure of what the father-daughter interaction could bring, but wishing he could somehow be there to help. Judging by Eddie’s expression, he wished the same. Unfortunately, both speedsters knew there was nothing they could do. The Snarts needed to work things out on their own. 

Snart stared at Michelle impassively, waiting for her to speak. His hands were crossed at the wrists, tense in a way that betrayed his mask of indifference. 

“I wanted to apologize,” Michelle began, voice deliberate and even. “For being so hostile earlier. It’s possible I was acting out in pain, instead of genuine ill will.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Snart said softly. 

Michelle shook her head. “I do,” she replied. “As much for my own good as for yours. Eddie reminded me this morning that I don’t do so well with feelings of vulnerability. I built all these walls around my heart, thinking they were the only thing holding me up when, really, all they did was shut me in. It’s a character flaw, I know. But, I’m working on it.” 

“I’m sorry, too,” Snart croaked, rocking nervously on the balls of his feet. He looked into her eyes, guilty conscious coming through. “That you never got the childhood you deserved. That I couldn’t deal with my issues and you paid the price for it.” 

Snart cleared his throat, uncomfortable, and broke their stare, instead looking at the space just to her right. “Of course,” he continued. “Even if I had gone looking for you - had tried to be a part of your life - I’m not sure I could have given you what you deserved then, either.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Michelle said, offering him a soft, genuine smile. “You know, before Barry disappeared, he used to talk about you all the time. He believed in you. And, well, if The Flash believed in you, you’ve gotta be worth believing in, right? Even if there’s no guarantee. Even if everything falls apart and it ends up destroying me. I’m willing to be vulnerable. Because Barry believes in you. And so I do, too.”

Snart nodded, a small, jerky movement, and smiled tightly. “I’m really proud of you, you know?” he said, voice low. “Of everything that you’ve built for yourself. Not just the PhD, or the superhero gig - though I’m proud of that, too. I am. But the friends. The family. All of these people who love you and support you. I know that wasn’t just dropped into your lap. Snarts aren’t that lucky. I know how hard you must have worked for it. How it must have gone against your better judgement to let so many people in. And that’s what I’m most proud of. That you didn’t turn out like me.” 

“I’m more like you than you think,” Michelle corrected. Then, she scoffed. “More than I’m even willing to admit to myself most of the time. Everyone around here loves me, yeah. And I love them, too. But I haven’t let them in. Lydia’s the only person who really knows me. The vulnerable parts I’d rather wall up. She’s my sister. A similar situation to your own, if I’m not mistaken.” 

For a moment, Snart was quiet. “You really don’t have anybody else?” he asked finally, sounding almost afraid to hear the answer. 

Michelle shrugged, unsure. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe Eddie? I mean, I think.” 

“He seems like a good kid,” Snart said. 

“He is,” Michelle agreed, smiling fondly. 

“He cares about you?” Snart asked, though it sounded more like a statement. 

“Yeah,” Michelle said. “He does.” 

“Do you care about him?” Snart was more hesitant with this question, uncertain of how Michelle would react, or what the boundaries of their newly reconciled relationship were. 

Again, Michelle just shrugged. He accepted her silence, making no further comment on the issue. “I should head back to the Waverider,” he said instead. “Get ready.” 

“Sure,” Michelle agreed, smiling politely. 

Even with his intentions declared, neither one moved for several long moments. Then, as Snart took a step back to leave, Michelle took a step forward, arms just slightly outstretched. She aborted the motion as soon as she saw him move, but he stopped in his tracks as well. They stared each other down for another few seconds before Snart cautiously stepped forward and drew Michelle into a loose, awkward hug. Her hands raised, equally as cautious, and latched onto the fabric of his shirt over his shoulder blades. Once accepted and reciprocated, the embrace lost all its awkward rigidity and instead became warm and comforting. 

Slowly, Michelle pulled back and gave Snart a watery smile. “I’ll see you soon,” she said. 

Affectionately, Snart placed a broad hand on her head and gently ruffled her deep auburn hair. “See you, Snowflake,” he breathed. 

Then, he turned and was gone. 

 

* * *

 

“How weird is it gonna be when we get back to 2016?” Ray mused as he fidgeted with one of the mechanisms on the Atom suit. The Legends crew were assembled around the bridge of the Waverider, moments away from returning to S.T.A.R. Labs. 

“With everything we’ve learned,” Sara added. “Maybe we could help people. Maybe Laurel and Oliver don’t have to die. Maybe no one does.” 

It was said speculatively, but, without warning, Rip slammed his fist down on the holographic table. The group started. “Absolutely not,” he roared. “I have had quite enough of you lot and your brash refusal to take the timeline seriously. One would think, after all the near-misses we’ve had, you’d have come to the understanding that one wrong change to the timeline, no matter how helpful it seems, could have disastrous consequences.” 

“Seems like something you should have considered before stealing a time ship,” Snart challenged, eyebrow raised. 

“Yes,” Rip snapped. “A time ship that functions in large part due to technologies invented by Dr. Michelle Allen.” 

The confession took the group aback. They shared nervous looks as Rip continued his manic ranting. “Not to mention,” the Time Master furthered. “The fact that her son, Bartholomew Allen II, one day becomes the third Flash, a hero whose bizarre lineage of both heroes and villains alike shapes an entire generation of costumed crime fighting.

“So, by all means,” he finished, staring the group down. “Go back to 2016 and save your handful of friends’ lives. Nevermind the hundreds of people your actions might hurt. Might kill.” 

“You can’t kill people who don’t exist yet,” Sara argued, cutting through the tense silence. “They’re not real.” 

“They seem pretty real to me,” Barry croaked. All eyes fell on him and he shifted uncomfortably in place. 

“Right, well,” Rip said, clearing his throat. He moved softly from the table toward the door. “The rest of this discussion will have to wait until after we’ve secured the artifacts.”   

The rest of the Legends muttered in agreement and followed Rip outside. Barry, however, was still rooted in place, eyes fixed to the floor. Snart noticed and hung back. 

“You okay, Scarlet?” the older man asked. 

Barry kept his eyes downcast. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he replied. “About what you said. About changing my future. I thought I was starting to figure out what I should do, but, I don’t know. After what Rip just said?” 

“How many times I gotta tell you to ignore that guy?” Snart cut in. 

Barry looked up at him, expression raw and vulnerable. “What if this is the best case scenario?” he whispered. “What if this is as good as it gets? Not all endings get to be happy. And, for a lot of people, it seems like this one is.” 

“People like Eddie and Michelle?” Snart guessed. He stared intently at the Scarlet Speedster, cowl pulled down, handsome face marred in an anxious grimace. 

“You heard Rip,” Barry said. “They get together. They have a family.” 

“A family that you’ll never get to be a part of,” Snart reminded him. Barry had nothing to argue back, no witty retort. Instead, he remained silent, eyes locked with the other man’s until his agitation wore down. 

Snart sighed. “It makes sense,” he said, voice quiet, and a little bemused. “Michelle and little Barry Junior ending up together.” He scoffed and looked away. “He’s a lot like you,” the older man added. “All hot-blooded, and  _ sincere _ . Kid wears his damn heart on his sleeve.” 

“Yeah?” Barry countered, a smile smile pulling at his lips. He met the Snart’s eyes again. “Well, Michelle’s a lot like you. Deliberate. Restrained. Cold.” 

Snart tensed, expression closing off, and so Barry was quick to press on. “But also brilliant,” he added. “And loyal, and unfathomably strong.” 

The two stared into one another’s eyes, transfixed. The silence that fell upon them was heavy and electric. 

“Eddie lets her be soft,” Snart said, voice barely louder than a whisper. 

“Michelle keeps him grounded,” Barry replied, licking his lips nervously. 

“Sounds like quite the pair,” Snart chuckled, quiet and humourless. “No wonder they’re meant to be.” 

Barry’s gut twisted with want. He felt his body sway forward on instinct before he caught himself and stilled. His skin was crawling, itching with the desire. He needed to touch, to taste, to claim. Every time he and Snart were together, he felt his resistance chip away piece by piece. Devastated, Barry’s heart sank as he realized that, had he never learned what choices his future self would make, he would never make them himself. He didn’t want Iris anymore. He wanted Snart. 

But Nora and Eddie were his children. 

“We should head back to the lab,” Barry said, voice rough and thick. “Savage’s people will be making their move soon.”  

“Right,” Snart said slowly, nodding once, eyes shifting away. He took a hesitant step back and, when Barry made no move to stop him, turned fully and left. When his silhouette disappeared out sight, Barry’s whole body deflated. He felt sick and empty, head tipping back, a solitary tear running down his cheek. 

 

* * *

 

The team watched from a nearby rooftop as Savage’s people - four that Barry could count - breached museum security. 

“That’s our cue,” Nora said, nodding. “We’re all familiar with the plan?” 

“Get in, stop the heist, steal the artifacts ourselves, and get out,” Mick replied gruffly. “And try not to die.” 

“Succinct, but accurate,” Diggle affirmed. 

Beside her, Will nocked an arrow he’d withdrawn from his quiver and shot it across the alley. A grappling hook caught on the museum’s roof, the length of rope drawing taut over the expanse. He secured the rope tightly on their end and then turned to his wife. 

“After you,” the archer said. 

Diggle extended her bo staff with a smile. She hooked it over the rope and grabbed hold of both ends, taking a running start and jumping off the building. She slid gracefully across the alleyway to the museum roof. Will unclipped a band from around his forearm and wrapped it around the makeshift zipline before doing the same. 

Reilly’s body lit up in bright blue flames as she became airborne, opting to fly across the divide instead. Lydia raised her arms and Firehawk took hold of her hands, carrying her along. Jaide and Nora zipped away at super speed a moment later. 

Eddie smirked and turned to face Michelle. He stepped unwarily into her space and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close. “Hold on tight, Commander,” he whispered, a little teasing. 

Instead of protesting or teasing herself, Michelle scooted closer, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and tucking her head in the curve of his shoulder. Eddie brought his other arm up to cradle her neck. Barry knew that, without proper support, high velocity travel for anyone who wasn’t a speedster could be jarring and uncomfortable. Eddie seemed keenly aware of it, too, given the gentle way with which he used his whole body to brace her. 

In a flash, they were gone. 

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Sara singsonged, hooking her own bo staff over the zipline. 

Barry shook himself. He needed to focus on the mission at hand. Without another word, he sped into the museum on Team Flash’s heels. 

Once inside, Barry found himself in the middle of a firefight. While it had been obvious as they trained together that the future team of heroes was highly skilled, Savage’s people easily matched them in strength, stamina, and efficiency. Barry was quick to jump in where he could, dodging a hail of bullets and trying to disarm one of the gunmen. 

It was a struggle to stay on equal footing, but soon the Legends crew arrived and, finally, the heroes had the upper hand. Bullets were met with blasts of fire - red and blue - the lethal proficiency of two expertly trained Canaries, and a whole family of Scarlet Speedsters. Alternating arctic blasts from both Cold Guns pushed the thieves back even farther. 

Everything was going according plan. Until it wasn’t. 

She came out of nowhere, a fifth member of Savage’s team. Barry saw her raise her gun and level it directly at Snart’s head. The hero’s stomach dropped. He felt bile gather at the back of his throat. Barry watched, frozen, as she pulled the trigger. He willed his feet to move but found them rooted to the floor in shock. Before he could react, a red blur darted in front of Snart. With a grunt, the bullet intended for Captain Cold lodged itself in Eddie’s shoulder, and the younger man went down hard. 

Michelle’s whole body tensed in horror. “Fast,” she shrieked, devastation plain in her voice. In the blink of an eye, she went from panicked to bloodthirsty. The Commander raised her gun and fired, aim steady, posture statuesque and imposing. The temperature plummeted, a vicious chill running up Barry’s spine. The puffs of his breath became visible in the air. Frost built up on the glass display cases, and Savage’s people scrambled back quickly, trying to outrun the punishing cold. 

So that’s what she had meant by a far superior design. 

“Retreat,” one of the thieves yelled. All five ran blindly in the direction of the exit, one cradling his arm where Michelle had iced it over. 

When they were safely out of range, Michelle powered down the Cold Gun and returned it to the holster on her thigh. The room looked like a winterscape, every surface coated in a sparkling layer of frost. 

“Bloody hell,” Rip whispered, looking around at the staggering display of Michelle’s power. 

“Eddie,” the redhead called, turning her attention toward the fallen speedster. 

Nora and Jaide were already at his side, helping him to his feet. He rolled his shoulder, wincing in pain, but was quick to wave off Michelle’s concern. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ve had worse.” 

“Did the bullet go through?” Lydia asked, moving to stand at Eddie’s injured side. 

“Nope,” he said, and while he was trying to make light of the hit, his teeth were very obviously gritted in pain. 

Lydia raised a hand and hovered it over his injured shoulder. “You ready for this?” she asked. 

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Eddie replied. 

From behind him, small vibrational waves emitted from Lydia’s hand. Eddie drew in a pained breath and Nora grabbed onto his hand, letting him squeeze down. After a few long seconds, the bullet previously lodged in Eddie’s shoulder pushed out of the puckered wound and fell into Lydia’s waiting hand. He relaxed noticeably and loosened his grip on his sister, sighing in relief. 

“You do that often?” Mick asked Lydia curiously, noting her proficiency. 

The gold-clad hero shrugged. “Every so often,” she replied. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Michelle asked stiffly, looking at Eddie with an impassive expression. She stood several feet away, arms crossed over her chest. 

“I’ll be fine,” Eddie reassured her, voice soft and gentle. “Completely healed in a few hours.”

Michelle nodded, but made no further comment. Snart came up on Eddie’s right side - the one without the bullet hole - and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. The gesture was unusual for Snart, and Barry could see the gratitude in his eyes. 

“Seems like you saved my life,” he said. “I owe you one.” 

Eddie chuckled. “Forget about it,” he replied. “All in a day’s work. Besides, I couldn’t very well let anything happen to you. Too many people that would hurt.” 

He looked at Michelle as he said it, but Barry could hear in his voice that he meant it as much for his father as he did for her.  

“Well,” Rip began. “Now that that’s settled. We need to collect the artifacts for ourselves. Let the police believe Savage’s people successfully made off with them.” 

Will nodded. “Of course,” he replied. 

“You’re not worried about your reputation?” Jax asked, still merged as Firestorm. 

“I think we can handle the hit,” Diggle replied. “Especially if it means saving the future.” 

“I’ll get them,” Michelle volunteered. She didn’t wait for an answer, simply left to go about the task. Eddie watched her retreating form with concern. The silence that descended upon the group was heavy and tense. 

 

* * *

 

When Barry and the team arrived back at S.T.A.R. Labs, they were greeted by an explosion of confetti poppers and a chorus of excited cheering. A banner hung in the cortex read  _ congratulations _ in giant, multicoloured letters. Bottles of champagne and bowls of snacks were laid out on a table next to a giant cake that also spelled out its praise. Iris, Caitlin, and Linda were all smiles for the returning group. Caitlin even had a party had fixed to her head, though it was somewhat askew. 

“Barry,” Linda exclaimed as soon as she saw him, rushing forward for a hug. Barry quickly hugged her back. 

“It’s great to see you, Linda,” Barry said, rubbing her back gently. 

Linda pulled back, all smiles. “Are you kidding me?” she said. “It’s great to see  _ you _ . Too bad you won’t be around much longer.” 

“I would stay if I could,” he replied. 

“I know you would,” Linda said, smile a little sadder now. 

“Oh, my God, Eddie. You’re bleeding.” Iris’s shrill cry interrupted the evening’s jubilant mood. 

“I’m already healing, Mom,” Eddie tried to assure her. 

Jaide scoffed. “Yeah,” she said, voice filled with mirth. “From a bullet wound.” 

“What can I say?” Eddie chuckled, shurgging. He did so more smoothly now, almost no trace of discomfort. “I’m a self-sacrificing idiot.” 

“You can say that again,” Michelle grumbled. She was far less teasing than Jaide had been. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Iris said, taking a slow, calming breath. “It otherwise went well, right?” she asked, looking over at Barry. 

“That was the only hitch,” Barry replied, nodding. “Mission accomplished.” 

“Do you have to leave right away?” Caitlin asked, a little sadly. “There’s cake.” 

“I suppose one additional night can’t do any more damage to the timeline than has already been done,” Rip replied, much to everyone’s surprise. When the group turned their stunned expressions on him, he sighed. “It’s not as though you haven’t already made a right mess of things,” he explained. “I suppose I’ll have to accept that the course of history may experience some slight deviations. Especially given that it was my fault to begin with.” 

“What exactly does that mean?” Nora asked slowly, sounding unsure. “That history may experience deviations? For us, here, in 2038, I mean?” 

The celebratory mood of the evening died almost instantly. 

Barry cleared his throat, awkward. “I’ve seen it happen once before,” he explained. “When we defeated Eobard Thawne in 2015. Eddie - the other Eddie, Detective Eddie Thawne - was one of Eobard’s direct ancestors. He sacrificed his life so that Eobard would never be born, would never exist. He effectively got written out of the timeline.

“But,” Barry continued, shifting uncomfortably. “A few months later, we ran into Eobard again. That version of him was from the past. That is, he was past version of Eobard Thawne visiting 2016 for the first time. Even though Eddie’s death had erased Eobard from ever existing in the future, everything he had done prior to being erased - killing my mother, disguising himself as Dr. Wells, coming back to 2016 - still had to exist. Otherwise Eddie’s death would have created a paradox. Which it didn’t.” 

“So,” Michelle began, face blank and closed-off. “When you leave here, does that mean we’ll all be erased, too?” 

“Depending on how closely they stick to our version of the timeline,” Caitlin said, jumping in on the explanation. “Things might remain almost identical. But not exactly. For instance, they won’t ever visit  _ their  _ version of 2038. They can’t. Every time jump erases the future. Or, rather, creates a parallel version of the timeline that ceases to exist once the fixed point - in this case Barry and the rest of the Waverider crew - leaves it.” 

“So, this is basically our last night on Earth,” Jaide said, and wasn’t that a sobering thought. 

“What’s gonna happen to us?” Lydia asked quietly. “I mean, do we die? Does it hurt?” 

A lump of guilt settled in Barry’s throat. “I don’t know,” he croaked. “I’m sorry. I wish I did.” 

Abruptly, Michelle turned on her heels and fled without saying a word. 

“Michelle,” Lydia called, staring after her, but Eddie held up a hand.  

“Let me,” he said. He rushed out after her, though at normal human speed, as the rest of the room looked on in concern. 

Eddie caught up with her in the hallway and reached out, taking hold of her arm to halt her hasty escape. “Michelle, wait,” he said. 

Under his touch, Michelle stilled. She leaned back against the wall and let Eddie box her in, a hand on either side of her shoulders. She kept her eyes downcast, and he stared intently into her hairline. 

“You’re afraid,” he whispered. 

Michelle shook her head. “Eddie,” she said warningly, not wanting to talk about it. 

“It’s okay to be afraid,” he pressed. 

“I’m not afraid,” she snapped, head jerking up to meet his eyes. “I’m upset, you idiot! You think you understand what I’m feeling right now? You don’t, okay. Because you get to just stop existing. Meanwhile, I am having my whole life rewritten! Everything I know. Everyone I love. It’s all being taken away from me. I’m losing fucking everything.” 

“Hey,” Eddie said softly, lowering his right hand to curl around her hip, fingers making small, soothing strokes. “You won’t be losing anything, okay. You won’t remember any of this.” 

Michelle’s face crumpled in pain. “You don’t think that’s worse?” she whispered, faint and broken. “That you’ll never be a part of my life?”  

“Listen to me, Michelle,” Eddie pleaded, pushing even closer into her space. “It doesn’t matter that I’ll never be a part of your life. Because you will  _ always  _ be a part of mine. The most important part.” 

Without warning, Michelle surged forward and kissed him. Her hands wrapped viciously around the corners of his jaw, drawing him in as close as she could. Eddie responded immediately, left hand twining through her hair, right hand moving from her hip to press into the small of her back, dragging her even closer still. 

Michelle pulled away with a small whine, hands trailing down his shoulders and grabbing fistfulls of tri-polymer where the cowl of his suit pooled around his neck. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and she shook her head with desperate fervour. 

“I love you,” she sobbed. 

Eddie brought his hands up cradle her cheeks, wiping away her tears with broad strokes of his thumbs. It did nothing to soothe her crying, nor to stop his own. 

“I love you, too,” he professed before leaning in and capturing her lips in another heart-wrenching kiss. 

They stayed that way, clinging desperately to one another as they exchanged kiss after kiss, mouths and tongues dancing in perfect harmony as though they had always been meant for it.

“Whatever happens,” Eddie said softly, pressing their foreheads together and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Tonight will exist forever.”  

“Then take me home,” Michelle whispered into the space between their mouths. 

Eddie was quick to nod and, in a matter of seconds, they tumbled through the front door of Michelle’s apartment across town. 

Michelle stripped out of her parka and tossed it carelessly to the floor. She gave her shirt similar treatment. Eddie backed her into the door, barely missing the knob, and claimed her mouth once again with his own. Something was different than it had been at S.T.A.R. Labs. The atmosphere had shifted. Where earlier their kisses had been tender and reverent, they were now needy and demanding.

Michelle fumbled with the zipper hidden in Eddie’s suit near his collar. Once she’d successfully located the tab, she drew it down his chest. Eddie took a small step back, just long enough to pull his arms from the sleeves and push the costume down his torso. Instantly, he was back on her, superspeed seeping into his every move. Her fingernails dug into the sculpted muscle of his shoulders, just the right side of painful. 

Eddie grabbed the redhead by her thighs and hoisted her up. Her legs reflexively wrapped around his waist. He kissed the exposed column of her neck as he walked them through her living room to the closed door of her bedroom. He let held onto her weight precariously with one hand to turn the knob with the other.

When the door swung open, Michelle slid out of his grip and took a coy step backwards, legs bumping the queen-sized bed behind her. It was still rumpled and unmade from the morning, but neither of them cared. 

Eddie dove forward, pushing her into the mattress. He fell atop her and resumed their frantic kissing. Michelle reached between their bodies and undid the button of her pants, sliding the zipper down and lifting her hips to slide them off. Eddie’s hands pressed alongside her own and undid the clasps of her thigh holster. Carefully, he withdrew from her lips and stood, moving to place the Cold Gun safely on her nightstand. 

Turning to face the bed again, Eddie saw Michelle standing before him, the rest of her clothes discarded. He swallowed heavily, taking in the sight of her. Pale legs, long and powerful, trembled under his gaze. The fatty swell of her hips and breasts lended a certain softness to the hard angles of her face, open now with want and adoration. She reached up and pulled her hair from its ponytail, already a ruined mess from Eddie’s fingers. The silky auburn locks brushed the jut of her clavicles, curling slightly at the ends. 

She was beautiful. 

The reality of their situation seemed to hit them both all over again. This was the only night they’d ever have together. They loved each other so deeply, and they were going to lose each other in a matter of hours. 

Eddie stepped forward slowly and cradled Michelle’s face between his palms. He kissed her, long and slow, and she responded in kind. Their rhythm fell back into what it had been at S.T.A.R. Labs. Gone was the frantic need to take and claim and move so God damn  _ fast _ . They were gentle again. Patient. Loving. 

Michelle’s fingers slipped under the material of Eddie’s suit and pushed it down past his hips. She stepped back and settled herself on the bed as he wrestled his legs free. She giggled as he stumbled gracelessly, and even harder when he had to resort to superspeed to get the job done. He smiled cheekily at her before crawling up the mattress. 

“You’re a dork,” Michelle teased. 

Eddie hovered over her, arms braced on either side of her head. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “But you love me.” 

“I do love you,” Michelle replied, voice soft and emphatic. Her eyes shone brightly with unshed tears and Eddie leaned down to kiss her again, pouring every ounce of emotion into the exchange as he could manage. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered. 

They spent the rest of the night showing each other just how much. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Last chapter! There's also a small epilogue that I'll post along with this update. This had been a wild ride. Thanks for sticking with me and leaving all your greats comments and kudos. You've been rad!  
> So, without further ado, here's your final chapter!

Barry gathered with the Legends and Team Flash in the parking lot behind S.T.A.R. Labs early the next morning. Rip had agreed to bring the Waverider around, giving the time travelers one last opportunity to say goodbye to their loved ones. The only people absent were Eddie and Michelle. Iris had received a text the night before promising that they were both fine and would be around in the morning, but Barry couldn’t help bouncing anxiously on his toes as he waited. Faced with his last night on Earth, Eddie had chosen to spend what little time remained with Michelle, the woman he loved, rather than his family. Barry understood. It was the same decision he’d have made. Still, he couldn’t help worrying that something had gone wrong, some disaster had occurred, and he’d never see his son again, not even to say goodbye. 

“Relax, Barry,” Iris soothed, placing a firm but gentle hand on his arm. “They’ll be here.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, a sleek black car pulled into the lot. It parked a few feet away from where the group had gathered and both driver and passenger immediately stepped out. Michelle rounded the hood as she tucked her keys into her pocket. Eddie met her halfway and slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to press a kiss to her temple. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Michelle apologized. The couple stopped as they reached the others, and she wrapped her arms around Eddie’s waist, cuddling into his side. 

Suddenly, the air around them picked up as the time ship, still cloaked, came in for a landing. 

Barry smiled. “You’re just on time, actually,” he replied. 

“So,” Eddie sighed. “This is really goodbye.” 

The silence that hung in the air was rich with melancholie. Soon, all that existed in this world would be erased. The only remaining traces would be in the memories of Barry and the other time travelers. He could see them all struggling to cope with the upcoming loss. 

Jaide’s arms clenched tightly around Reilly’s waist, her head resting in the curve of the blonde’s shoulder. Reilly gripped her back every bit as tight. On either side, Linda and Caitlin rested a protective hand on their daughters’ arms. Will stood with his wife, holding her around her hips. Diggle’s head rested gently on the archer’s shoulder. Lydia moved to Michelle’s side. The redead unraveled one arm from around Eddie’s waist and took her cousin’s hand, a girl who had been a sister to her for over half her life. Iris stood on Eddie’s other side, a hand on Nora’s back, the other on Eddie’s shoulder. 

The air in the parking lot shimmered as Rip opened the door to the invisible time ship and stepped outside. 

“We really mustn't stay much longer,” the Time Master called. “The longer we remain in one place, the easier we are to trace.” 

Barry nodded and swallowed guiltily around the lump in his throat. “I guess this is it,” he said. 

“Actually,” Diggle cut in, taking a small step forward. The group turned to face her and she offered them a nervous smile. “Will and I have some news.” 

“We were going to tell everyone on Friday,” her husband continued. “But then all of this came up, and it just didn’t seem like the right time.” 

“We talked about it last night, though,” Diggle said, looking over at the taller man at her side. “And decided this was really something we wanted to share before we lost the chance to.”

Diggle took a deep breath, steeling herself, and then both she and Will broke out in glowing smiles. “We’re pregnant,” she announced. 

Around them, the group erupted in cheers and congratulations. 

Will laughed, completely overjoyed. “We already picked out names,” he said. “Dinah Olivia for a girl.” 

“Or,” Diggle cut in. “If it’s a boy, Connor Hawke.”  

The celebratory mood held for only a few moments before reality set back in. Baby Clayton, girl or boy, was never going to be born. Not in this timeline. 

“Oh, my God,” Barry breathed, face crumpling with regret. “You guys,” he said. “I am so sorry. If we hadn’t come here…” 

He couldn’t even finish the thought. 

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. 

Diggle shrugged. “Don’t be,” she said. “We were sad about it, at first, but we decided we’d rather be hopeful instead.” 

Will took her hand and stared down at her fondly. “We’re both alive in 2016, right?” he said. “We’ll find each other again.” 

The look they shared was filled with so much love, it made Barry’s heart ache. 

“You’re all going to lose so much because of us coming here,” Barry whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done something terrible. Inexcusable. “Because of me.” 

At that, Iris extracted herself from between her children and approached him. She placed warm, caring hands on either side of his face to hold his gaze. “You couldn't be more wrong, Barry,” she whispered, shaking her head. “One, this isn’t your fault. And two, we won’t be the ones losing anything. We won’t remember any of this. But you, Barry? You will. You’re the one who’s losing something. You’re grieving. I don’t know if you realize it, but you are. You’re angry, and guilty, and in denial. But you’ve been hurting long enough. It’s time for you to find acceptance. To find the same hope that Sara and Will have found. That things may be every bit as good in the new timeline. Just different.”  

Hearing her echo his words from earlier, Barry felt a weight lift from his chest. Iris’s deep brown eyes -  gleaming and steady and  _ home  _ \- broke through the fog of his grief. Because it was true, what she’d said. He’d spent the past two days grieving. Not for the way the future had turned out, as he’d originally thought, but because it  _ wouldn’t  _ turn out that way. Taking such an intimate look at a life that he would never - could never - have had been crushing him. 

Barry nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back, a small, hopeful smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, you’re right. Of course you are. You know me better than anyone, Iris.” 

“The one constant no timeline could erase,” Iris agreed. “Goodbye, Barry Allen,” she whispered, leaning forward to place a gentle, loving kiss on his lips. He kissed her back, pouring every ounce of emotion he had into the exchange. Every straggling wish. Every last scrap of desire. He gave it over to the press of their mouths and let it go. 

“Goodbye, Iris West-Allen,” he said, pulling back. He squeezed her wrists between his hands tenderly. Then, he moved to hug his children. 

As he did, Michelle approached Snart, both letting Eddie have his moment and perhaps searching for her own. 

“It was good to get a chance to know you,” Michelle said, rocking forward on the balls of her feet and avoiding her father’s eyes. “Even if it doesn’t mean much now.” 

Snart cleared his throat, and Michelle looked quickly up at him. He effortlessly held her gaze. “It does mean much,” he replied. “To me.” 

Michelle nodded, brisk and curt. Then, abruptly, she launched forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. She buried her face into his shoulder and sobbed. Slowly, a little unsure, Snart looped his arms around her small frame and rubbed a broad, open palm up and down her back comfortingly. He blinked several times in quick succession to clear away traitorous tears, but one still slipped down his cheek, unbidden. 

“I’ll do it right this time around,” Snart whispered, voice rough and scratchy. “I promise.” 

Michelle pulled back and wiped at her cheeks. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she warned. 

“I promise,” he said again, looking her straight in the eyes. 

Michelle swallowed thickly and nodded. 

“Alright, let’s go,” Rip hollered, hand banging against the side of the Waverider to draw the crew’s attention. 

Snart turned to glare daggers at the man, but Michelle stepped away. Snart and Barry both watched as she and Eddie fell back into one another’s arms, holding tight to their final moments together. 

Barry and the Legends called out their last goodbyes before turning and boarding the Waverider. From inside the ship, Barry watched as the waving figures on the ground became smaller and smaller as Rip flew the craft into the air until they faded completely out of sight. 

“Well,” Rip declared as the group moved to take their seats. “That’s it. We are never traveling to your future again. There is far too much at stake to risk mucking it all up.” 

“But the stakes were just fine when we almost made Norway go nuclear?” Jax quipped, securing himself in his chair next to Mick. 

Rip pointedly ignored him.

“We don’t seem to have altered anyone’s destiny too severely,” Stein remarked, also strapping in. “Take Dr. Snart, for example. The time ship appears to be in working order.” 

“A small miracle, really,” the Time Master replied, snorting derisively. 

With the pull of a few levers, Rip sent the Waverider rocketing into the temporal zone to make the jump back to Central City, 2016. Barry spent the whole nauseating trip contemplating the new future he was inevitably going to create, what he’d fight to keep the same and what he’d fight to make change. 

When the time ship settled gently in the S.T.A.R. Labs parking lot - the same as they’d left it, only twenty-two years earlier - Barry turned his head to glance over at Snart. The older man blinked hard and shook his head, most likely trying to clear it of the same dizziness Barry was feeling. Adorable was probably the wrong way to describe the older man, a notorious criminal with his fair share of blood on his hands, but the speedster couldn’t think of another word that fit. He was remarkable, really. 

Barry was more careful as he stood this time, familiar now with the effects of the Waverider’s particular brand of time travel.  

“We leave again in the morning,” Rip announced, rising from the captain’s chair. “I think you’ve all earned an evening at home with your loved ones.”  

“That’s awfully generous of you,” Snart drawled, staring Rip down suspiciously. “What gives?” 

Rip shrugged. “It’s been an emotional few days,” he replied. “And I need you all at peak performance if we are to defeat Savage once and for all. I had Gideon run several simulations yesterday evening, and it seems as though our heist in 2038 has only slowed Savage in his endeavours, not stopped him completely.” 

“So, the mission goes on,” Stein said. 

Rip nodded. “That it does.” 

With the Time Master’s dismissal, the crew began filing out of the ship, talking excitedly amongst themselves about their plans. Sara was going to visit her mother, who lived in the city, and give her family and friends in Star City a call. Stein planned to return immediately to his wife and Jax to his mother. Kendra and Ray discussed going to see a movie, while they had the downtime. Mick said nothing, but Barry was sure that something would be on fire by the end of the evening. He wasn’t all too concerned about it.

Snart, however, was silent as well, and that did worry him. Not because he was overly talkative by nature, but because so much of the other man’s life had been turned upside down during their trip to the future, just like Barry’s own. 

He reached forward and placed a gentle hand on the Snart’s arm before he could exit the ship. “I think we talk,” he whispered. 

Mick met Snart’s eyes curiously, but Snart nodded, telling Mick to go on without him. When they were alone, the older man leaned against the ship’s wall, waiting for Barry to speak. 

“What should we do about Michelle?” the speedster asked, voice still quiet. Snart raised his eyebrows at Barry’s use of the word  _ we _ , and the younger man just shrugged. 

“I could help,” he offered. “After everything Joe did for me, taking me in when my mother died and my father was arrested. I’d like to, I don’t know, pay it forward?” 

“You’re not talking about buying a coffee for the person behind you in line, Barry,” Snart said, an edge of warning in his tone. “You’re talking about raising a kid.  _ My  _ kid. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” Barry said quickly. “I’m telling you that I want to do this. I know it would be a huge responsibility, and that I’d probably be in way over my head, but I want to.” 

“What about the timeline?” Snart asked, uncertain. “You’re not worried about your  _ own  _ kids.” 

Barry shook his head, a slight grimace spreading across his face. “They weren’t really my kids, Snart,” he said, voice wavering slightly. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “They were a glimpse of what could have been, but they weren’t ever real. Not the way Michelle is real. Alive, here and now, in 2016. Iris was right. I can’t spend the rest of my life mourning ghosts. Especially if it means ignoring things that are right in front of me.” 

Snart was quiet for a beat, staring down at his feet in deep contemplation. “She really was something special,” he said finally, letting a small, elated laugh slip through his his lips. Barry heart stuttered seeing the other man’s face light up at the thought of his daughter.  

“She was,” Barry agreed, emphatic. “She will be. I promise.” 

Snart’s posture became stiff once again and he turned his gaze to the floor. “What if this is the wrong thing for her?” he asks quietly. “You said it yourself. Everything that happened to you, to your family. It made you who you are. A hero.” 

The older man paused for a moment. “And I think we both know what my childhood did to me,” he added softly, almost ashamed. “What if I can’t give her what she needs, to become that person from 2038. What if I screw up her destiny?” 

“I thought you said destiny was bullshit,” Barry joked, huffing a laugh. 

Snart looked up at him, eyes dark. “I’m serious, Barry,” he said. 

“So am I,” Barry replied, every bit as firm. “I didn’t become the hero I am because of some tragic backstory. I am who I am because, for the first eleven years of my life, I was surrounded by wonderful parents who loved me, and supported me, and were there for me.

“Then,” he continued, voice wavering. “When that all fell apart, I had Joe and Iris. They loved me, and supported me, and were there for me, in the ways my mother and father couldn't be anymore. And, honestly? It saved my life. I’m not a hero for everything I’ve suffered. I’m a hero because of all the people in my life who were kind, and generous, and selfless. They showed me how to be a hero long before the particle accelerator exploded, and they’ve kept showing me every day since.

“A hero is only as good as  _ their  _ heroes,” Barry said with conviction. “In the timeline we saw, I think Michelle’s was Cisco. And Lydia, and Eddie. Maybe in this timeline, it could be me. And you.” 

Both men locked eyes after Barry’s bold declaration. The air became too thick and too hot in an instant. 

“You could stay,” Barry whispered, their heady gaze still holding. “Here in Central. Be a part of Michelle’s life, too.” 

Snart swallowed thickly. “I want that,” he croaked. “I do, Barry. But I can’t. Not right now.” 

Barry looked quickly away and nodded, fidgeting in nervous embarrassment.

“I still have to stop Savage,” Snart elaborated. Barry looked back up at him, hopeful again. “He’s dangerous, Barry. I have to.” 

A slow, proud smile spread across Barry’s face. He could feel his heart swell. “I was wrong about you,” he said, as earnest as he’d ever been. 

Snart met his eyes curiously and Barry smiled even wider. “There isn’t just good in you,” the speedster said. “Leonard Snart, you are a good man.” 

The older man took a sudden, shuddering breath. He swallowed roughly, lips trembling, caught somewhere between a smile and a frown. He started deep into Barry’s eyes for several long, charged moments before offering him an uncertain shrug. The vulnerability of the gesture, of Snart’s entire posture, made Barry’s blood ignite. There was no denial, no dismissal, as there usually was. Just fear, raw and powerful. The kind of fear that could only come from faith, from believing in something so precarious the world could snatch it away at any moment. Snart looked at Barry like he’d placed his whole life in the younger man’s hands, yet wasn’t sure Barry would handle it with care.  

Snart was trusting him, Barry realized. Against every impulse he’d spent his whole life building, Snart had bared his soul, and Barry knew at that exact moment that he wanted to spend the rest of his life holding onto it like glass. 

Taking a careful step forward, Barry watched Snart’s face for signs of distress or discomfort. When none appeared, just more of the same terrified faith, he took another step, and then another. Soon, Barry stood mere inches away from the other man, still pressed against the wall. They’d yet to break eye contact, and Barry could feel tension mounting. The ache spreading through his chest was almost unbearable, radiating down his arms and into his belly. 

Ever so gently, Barry brought his hands up cradle Snart’s neck. He expected the older man to tense under his touch, but he remained still and open. Barry’s thumbs traced delicate circles over the hinges of his jaws,  fingers scratching at his hairline. Slowly, the speedster leaned forward to place a tender kiss to Snart’s lips, mindful of the older man’s body language. 

Snart neither stiffened nor drew away. He was still for a moment, unresponsive, but then, Barry felt him press softly back, lips moving against his own. Snart’s hands came up to rest tentatively on his hips, and so Barry stepped in closer to reassure him. Snart immediately became more confident, hands gripping tighter, tongue darting out to trace the seam of Barry’s lips, which parted shamelessly at the silent request. Their tongues unhurriedly set about mapping the ridges and planes of one another’s mouths, heartfelt and easy. 

Barry felt his toes curl as Snart’s hand ran up his back, slipping under the fabric of his shirt. “Len,” he breathed, hot and wrecked against the other man’s lips. 

“I know,” Len whispered back, just as consumed. 

Barry kissed him again, pressing even closer. Their hearts beat in tandem, a thundering tattoo. Every thought that had been plaguing Barry’s mind since the time jump had disappeared without a trace. All he could think about, all he could focus on, all he could feel, was Len. His presence was inescapable, and unyielding, and it was terrifying, but also absolutely right. 

“Do you have somewhere we can go?” Barry panted, breath hot. 

Len nodded emphatically and rattled off a nearby address. Barry wrapped the other man tightly in his arms before whisking them away. 

Barry waited anxiously, hands on Len’s waist, as he disarmed the safehouse’s security. Locks and alarms disengaged and then again re-engaged, Barry’s lips found Len’s once more. This time, it was the older man who had his hands in Barry’s hair, Barry’s wrapped around his waist. The passion of their embrace built exponentially with every brush of lips, and teeth, and tongues. 

Abruptly, Len broke the kiss and pulled away. “Wait, Barry,” he said, voice urgent. 

Barry’s brow furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?” the speedster asked, earnest. 

“Why the hell are you doing this?” Len said, ignoring Barry’s question. 

“Doing what?” Barry asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. 

“This,” Len replied, gesturing between the pair. “You and me. What about your future, Barry?” 

Barry bristled, suddenly defensive. “What about my future?” he snapped. This couldn’t be happening. “You’re the one who kept telling me to change things.” 

“So you could have better,” Len shouted, lips curled in loathing. As quickly as it had come, all the anger rushed out of Barry as he took in the broken expression on the older man’s face. “With a wife and a family and a whole life ahead of you. Because you deserved better.” 

Len paused, swallowing thickly. “You deserve better, Barry,” he whispered. 

As soon as the words left Len’s mouth, Barry shook his head. He swept forward and kissed the other man again, thin fingers cradling his face ardently. Len’s resolve didn’t hold out long before he was kissing Barry back, arms curling possessively around his back.  

“You couldn’t save your own mother, Barry,” Len said miserably as their lips parted, clinging to the speedster as hard as he could. “How could you ever think I’m worth sacrificing your whole life for in comparison?” 

“Because,” Barry began, voice a whisper between their lips. “Being with you - loving you -” as he uttered the confession, a hushed, desperate groan slipped past Len’s lips “- isn’t a sacrifice,” the speedster finished, head shaking vehemently.  

This time, it was Len who kissed Barry first. He practically devoured the younger man’s mouth, which Barry had no quarrels with. Len’s hands slipped under his shirt to trail up his sides, skin to skin, and Barry raised his arms, signaling for him to peel the garment off entirely. Their lips separated just long enough to pass the shirt over Barry’s head, and reconnected in the next breath as Len let the bundle of fabric fall to the floor. 

Barry moved his hands down to grab the hem of Len’s top, but forceful fingers clamped around his wrists as soon as he made contact. He looked up at the older man, alarmed. 

Len dropped Barry’s wrists like they’d burned him and refused to meet his eyes. “Sorry,” he croaked. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“You didn’t,” Barry assured him. 

The older man still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I just don’t --” 

Len cut himself off abruptly, tugging subconsciously at the long sleeves brushing against his wrists. The memory of seeing Lisa’s scar, long and jagged down her shoulder, jumped, unbidden to Barry’s mind. 

“It’s okay,” Barry said, reaching out and taking one of Len’s hands, thumb stroking patterns into his skin. “We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, Len. Not ever. Just tell me what you need.” 

Len drew Barry in by the neck and kissed him, deep and slow. Barry rocked up on his toes, desire flooding through his body like a wave. He’d never kissed anyone like this before, never touched anyone like this, where every point of contact was an inferno. His chest felt tight and full, like lust and longing and love all rolled up into one, slowly tearing him apart at the seams. 

“You,” Len whispered as he pulled slowly away. 

Barry watched, enraptured, as the other man grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head in one fluid motion. The skin exposed was marred with a myriad of scars in all shapes and sizes. Some were long, irregular lacerations while others were defined punctures. Others still were clearly burns, and Barry’s heart stuttered in his chest. For Len to trust him like this, to show him the most vulnerable parts of himself, sent a shock of heat coursing through his gut. 

“You’re amazing,” Barry said, eyes swimming. He pulled Len back into his arms and kissed him hard. “You look amazing,” he breathed, running wandering hands across his muscular back and chest. “You feel amazing.” 

Barry darted his tongue between Len’s parted lips, deep and salacious. “You taste amazing,” the speedster whispered. 

Len shuddered. “Barry,” he breathed, voice thick with desire. 

The younger man smirked. He brought his hands to Len’s belt and fiddled with the clasp. 

“You got a bedroom in this place?” Barry asked, teasing. 

Len nodded mutely and took hold of his hand. They held their heated eye contact as Len dragged him through the safehouse’s living room and behind closed doors. 

The two fell into bed together, a tangle of limbs. Len’s weight pressed firmly against Barry’s body, the drag of their skin setting Barry’s nerves on fire. With a burst of speed, he flipped their positions, straddling Len’s hips, hands braced against the older man’s chest. Len looked up at him reverently from his new vantage point. Slowly, he sat up, arms wrapping around Barry’s back as he slid down Len’s thighs. Len’s hands circled around the small of his back and then down the waistband of his jeans, fingers gripping the swell of the younger man’s ass. 

“Fuck, Len,” Barry whined, rolling his hips forward. The delicious friction sent shockwaves up both men’s spines. 

Barry’s wandering hands dropped to Len’s waist, frantically working the clasp of his belt. He pried it open with trembling fingers, then set to work on his button and zipper. Len’s own hands slid around to Barry’s front to return the favor. 

Soon, the pair fell into the sheets again, pants and underwear kicked to the floor. A strong hand cradled the back of Barry’s neck as Len kissed him breathless. The younger man’s legs wrapped around Len’s hips, encouraging him to rock forward. From there, they quickly developed a rhythm, long, and sensual, and painfully  _ slow _ . The fingers of Len’s other hand twined between Barry’s own, pressing into the mattress. 

Barry’s body screamed at him to pick up the pace. He could tell by the tensing of Len’s muscles the other man felt the same. And yet, neither of them did. Even as Len settled atop him again after retrieving a condom and lube from the dresser across the room, they returned to the same unhurried tempo. Fingers traced damp, sweaty skin, stroking and  _ pressing  _ in all the right places. 

The air left Barry’s lungs in a gasp as Len slid into him. He didn’t know he could feel this  _ full  _ \- not physically, but emotionally. They stared into one another’s eyes, powerless to look away, as their bodies moved together, every push met with a pull, every breath out met with a breath in. 

Warmth spread through Barry’s chest, then downward into his groin, out into the tips of his fingers and toes. It ran up his neck until even his scalp was tingling. Barry came harder than he ever had before, a desperate plea of Len’s name falling from his lips in a strangled moan. Len followed close behind, panting Barry’s name into the hollow of his throat as he shook. 

After, once Len had disposed of the condom and retrieved a wet washcloth to clean Barry and himself off, they laid together, face to face, sharing the same air. Barry’s fingers traced absent patterns into the other man’s skin until it cooled under his touch. 

“I love you,” Barry croaked, the words barely a whisper between their lips. “You don’t have to say anything back. But it’s true, and I need you to know.” 

For a moment, Len was quiet. “I believe you,” he said finally. It wasn’t a reciprocation, exactly, but Barry understood how much those words actually meant. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Len’s lips, which to other man immediately accepted and returned. 

They fell asleep that way, wrapped in each other’s arms, listening to the sounds of their shared breathing. 

 

* * *

 

Barry awoke to a gentle nudge against his shoulder. He blinked, clearing sleep from his eyes, and looked up at Len, sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed. He smiled affectionately at him, a smile which Len returned. 

“Good morning,” Barry greeted, voice rough with disuse. 

“Good morning to you, too,” Len replied. 

Barry sat up, sheets pooling around his waist. He shivered as the cool morning air hit his bare chest, and Len chuckled fondly. 

“I have to go,” the older man said, tone regretful. “The ship leaves soon, and I want to go see Lisa before it does.” 

“Of course,” Barry said, nodding emphatically. He could only imagine how much Len missed his younger sister after being away for so long, especially having visited a version of the future in which she was dead. 

Len shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his hands. “About Michelle,” he began. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Barry assured him, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. “I’ll get Joe’s help. And everyone at S.T.A.R. Labs. She’ll be okay, I promise.” 

Len nodded. He looked back up at the younger man and smiled. 

“When you get back from defeating Savage,” Barry said. “Which you will, the two of you can build a life together.” 

Barry paused, uncertain, until Len shifted under his grip to take hold of his hand. “And maybe I could be a part of that life,” he whispered, open and vulnerable. 

Len leaned in and kissed him, deep and devoted. “You’re welcome for as long as you’ll have me,” he replied. 

Barry smiled. “You’ll never get rid of me, then,” he teased. 

The older man kissed him again before moving to stand. 

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” Len said, gesturing around the bedroom. Then, he paused in the doorway and looked back at the speedster. “And Barry,” he said, voice low and open. “I love you, too.” 

Barry smiled, bright and earnest, eyes filled with hope and anticipation. The pair held their amorous gaze for another long, charged moment before Len turned on his heels and left. Barry flopped down onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, dopey grin fixed to his face. 

This new future didn’t seem so bad after all. 


	8. Epilogue

_ Sunday, February 6th, 2022 _

 

The silver sedan pulled up outside of S.T.A.R. Labs at exactly two fifteen, right on schedule. Len and Barry were already waiting in the lobby when the tiny redhead came running through the automatic doors, her mother trailing behind her with a fond smile and an overnight bag. 

“Daddy,” she shrieked, long, spindly limbs flailing as she jumped into Len’s waiting arms. 

Her father propped her up on one hip and smiled at her. “Hey, Snowflake,” he greeted, ruffling her hair. “Did you have a good weekend at Mommy and Ned’s?”  

“We went cake tasting,” Michelle replied excitedly, legs kicking out, erratic.

Barry chuckled as he moved forward to take the overnight bag from Michelle’s mother. He gave her a quick hug, which she emphatically returned. 

“Hi, Corinna,” Barry said. 

“Hi, Barry,” Corinna replied. 

After Barry had taken custody of Michelle, Corinna had checked herself into one of the best rehab centers in the country, bill generously footed by Felicity Queen. She’d reclaimed her sobriety nearly six years ago, taken a secretarial program at community college, and started work at a legal firm where she’d met her fiancé. Her life had completely turned itself around, in no small part to all the help she’d received from Barry, his friends, and his family. 

Corinna turned to look at Len and Michelle and sighed, exasperated. “And didn’t I pay for that when she was still bouncing off the walls at ten o’clock last night.” 

“You didn’t give your mother a hard time, did you?” Barry asked, staring his step-daughter down. 

Michelle shook her head. “I was good,” she said. “I promise.” 

“She was just fine,” Corinna assured him, tucking a lock of hair even fierier than her daughter’s behind her ear. “Best little wedding planner ever. More organized than any of the professionals I looked at.” 

“She gets that from her dad,” Barry said, looking over at his husband fondly. Len rolled his eyes at the compliment, but a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. 

“You guys have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?” Corinna asked. 

The nine-year-old beamed. “Barry promised he’d teach me how to factor polynomials,” she chirped, bouncing happily on her father’s hip. 

Len and Corinna both shot the speedster a strange look. 

“What?” Barry stuttered, flushing a little. “She likes math.”

“Just promise you’ll remember your dear old Mom when you’re accepting your Nobel Prize, Kiddo,” Corinna joked. Michelle smiled back at her and nodded. 

The group exchanged well-wishes and goodbyes before Len, Barry, and Michelle headed into the cortex. Once there, Michelle slipped out of Len’s arms and ran over to her Aunt Caitlin, wrapping her arms around the doctor’s enormous, pregnant belly. 

“Hi, Auntie Cait,” she greeted, looking up at the older woman with a smile. 

Caitlin placed an arm around Michelle’s back and rubbed her arm gently. “Hi, Michelle,” she returned. 

Michelle pulled back and offered the same greeting to her Uncle Ronnie. The engineer hefted her into the air and the redhead giggled manically. He set her down gently and ruffled her hair. 

The merriment in the cortex was broken as Cisco and Lisa arrived, inane bickering volleying between them.

“All I’m saying is that, by adding another tier, we’re risking the structural integrity,” Cisco said, arms waving as he spoke. 

Lisa scoffed. “Where was all this concern for structural integrity when there was a seven foot tall house of cards in my living room?” she quipped, arms crossing over her chest. 

A loud groan sounded out from behind the pair as their three-and-a-half-foot tall daughter trailed in on their heels, feet dragging and head thrown skyward. 

“Would you two stop arguing,” Lydia pleaded. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a cake.” 

Both husband and wife turned back to look at their child, expressions shocked and offended. 

“Just a cake?” Lisa parroted, eyes wide in disbelief. “It’s my baby girl’s fifth birthday. That is a milestone. The cake isn’t just a cake. It’s a statement piece.” 

She turned toward Cisco and glowered. “And it needs the extra tier.” 

“Just leave me out this,” Lydia sighed, brushing past her parents to join her cousin at a nearby desk where Michelle had settled herself, sketching absently on scraps of drafting paper. 

“Are you two still fighting over that damn birthday cake?” Wally asked as he swept into the cortex, tablet in his hand as he ran numbers for a new schematic he was working on. 

“We’re not fighting,” Cisco and Lisa snapped in perfect unison, glaring at the speedster. 

“No,” Wally said, all sarcasm, eyes rolling. “Because you two never do that.” 

“I want the extra tier, Cisco,” Lisa insisted, brushing Wally off and turning back to face her husband. 

Cisco sighed. “Whatever you say, Dear,” he replied, offering her a forced smile. Leaning forward, the engineer placed a warm hand over Lisa’s crossed arms and kissed her. Lisa was quick to press back, their disagreement forgotten in the affectionate exchange. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the cortex, the scientists tinkering away at various projects, Snart siblings going over blueprints for the new Central City National Bank vault, officially hired as security consultants. Michelle and Lydia worked together, designing and assembling small machines from scrap pieces they’d been given, rudimentary by S.T.A.R. Labs standards but incredibly complex for their ages. 

Around four, Mick arrived, knocking the wall gently with his boot to alert the others to his presence. 

Michelle and Lydia’s heads snapped up from their work. “Hi, Uncle Mick,” they chirped. Lydia’s adorable smile revealed a missing front left tooth. 

“Your parents know child labour’s illegal?” the burly man rumbled, arms crossing over his chest. Michelle stuck her tongue out at him teasingly. 

Then, Mick turned to Caitlin, looking the woman up and down. “They give you mat leave for a reason, Doc,” he said. 

Caitlin scoffed, eyes rolling. “I’m not due for another month,” she replied. “Besides, I’m more than capable of both working and growing a human life inside of me. Women have been doing it millennia. I think I’ll be fine.”  

Mick just shrugged, so Caitlin sighed. “Though I appreciate the concern,” she added. 

As the two spoke, Linda came speeding into the cortex, squealing excitedly. Her own baby bump had just begun to show, accentuated by the tight, high-waisted slacks she wore. 

“Hear ye, hear ye,” the reporter announced, giddy smile fixed to her face. “Official word has just come down from upper management, and CCPN’s newest senior editor is none other than --”

After Linda’s quick drumroll on a nearby desk, Iris rounded the corner, smile blinding. The twins held onto either hand as they toddled in alongside her. Behind them, Iris’s husband followed, carrying a storebought cake and a bag of plastic plates and forks. 

Saving Eddie had been a quite the ordeal, to say the least. Navigating around the singularity, and then all the possible paradoxes his rescue could create, had been a headache. It had all been worth it, though, Barry thought,  to see Iris reunited with the finacé she had lost. The couple were married mere months after Eddie’s safe return. When they’d discussed having children, neither was sure how to do so safely without risking the return of Eobard Thawne. It was Barry who had suggested he act as their sperm donor. And so, the twins were born; Eddie Allan, after his fathers, and Nora Josephine, after her grandparents. 

“Congratulations, Iris,” Barry exclaimed as the others clapped and cheered. 

“I always thought you had the gumption,” Len added, smirking. 

Eddie laid the cake on a nearby desk Cisco had cleared. As he began uncovering it, a shrill alarm sounded through the cortex. All around, television and computer screens flickered to life, displaying the disturbing image of an enormous waterspout spiralling skyward near the Central City waterfront. 

“Oh, my God,” Iris breathed, hand coming up to cover her mouth in shock. 

“Michelle,” Barry said, reaching a hand out toward his step-daughter, eyes never leaving the screen. “Take the kids into the other room.” 

Michelle nodded. She and Lydia gathered the twins and escorted them from the cortex, talking calmly to mask the tension that had overtaken the room. 

It wasn’t long before Eddie’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, checked the display, and turned to Iris grimly. “I have to take this,” he said. 

Iris nodded. “I know,” she replied. She pulled him in for a quick but passionate kiss. “Be safe,” she urged. 

“As safe as I can,” Eddie promised her before rushing from the room, phone pressing to his ear as he answered the call. “Captain Thawne.” 

At the press of a button, a hidden wall that had been built into the cortex fell away, revealing glass cases of mannequins dressed in the team’s signature costumes. Barry and Wally flashed into their suits as Len, Lisa, Mick, and Cisco pulled their own from their displays. 

“Make the call,” Barry told Len as the older man grabbed his Cold Gun. 

Len moved to a microphone at mission control and held down a small, black button, sending the transmission live to every radio and television station in Central. 

“Calling all Rogues,” Len said, voice clear and clipped. “This is Captain Cold on behalf of Team Flash. Our city is under attack. Effective immediately, the ceasefire is in place. Any Rogue who comes to the city’s aid will have any and all warrants temporarily waived and given fair opportunity to escape once the threat has been neutralized. You can’t rob a city if there’s no city left to rob. Chose wisely.” 

With the flip of a switch, the message began broadcasting on repeat, and Len set about donning his parka and goggles. 

“We’ve been tracking this meta for months,” Ronnie explained to the group as they continued suiting up. 

“His powers seem to stem from a deeply symbiotic physiological connection to other water molecules in found in nature,” Caitlin jumped in. “He’s somehow be able to manipulate these molecules like an extension of his own body.”

“In English, Doc?” Mick asked, slipping into his jacket. 

“He’s basically a human --”

“Water Cannon,” Cisco cut in, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face. 

“You’ve really gotta stop naming them,” Lisa sighed, zipping up her gold tri-polymer jacket. 

“He gonna act like water if I get him hot enough?” Mick wondered, turning his gun over in his hands to admire it. 

Caitlin quirked an eyebrow playfully. “Light him up,” she ordered. 

Linda and Wally shared a quick kiss. 

“You watch yourself out there,” Linda said. 

Wally placed a gentle hand on her swollen stomach. “The two of you stay safe in here,” he replied. 

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Len said, Cold Gun whirring to life in his hands. He turned to Barry and sighed. “I suppose you and West are gonna go speeding ahead on your own?” 

Barry shrugged. “That thing looks like it’s moving fast,” he replied, gesturing to the picture of the waterspout on the screens. 

Stepping into his husband’s space, Len wrapped a hand around his waist and gave him a long, slow kiss. 

“Do be careful, Dear,” Len said softly, his voice teasing but his expression serious. 

Barry smiled. “Of course, Sweetheart.” 

Barry leaned forward for another kiss and then, in a flash, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Monday, November 29th, 2066 _

 

The young speedster skidded to a stop outside the Hall of Justice, panting and out of breath. He took a moment collect himself, elbows braced on his knees. Straightening, he ran a hand through the tight curls of his golden red hair before reaching out for one of the main entrance’s doors. 

With a start, the speedster pulled his hand back as an arrow flew past his fingers and lodged into the ground at his feet. Turning, he saw the silhouette of a man all in green, hood pulled over his head and bow gripped tight, standing, statuesque to his right.

“You’re late, Flash,” the man said, disapproval strong in his tone. 

The redhead scoffed. “Bite me, Connor,” he retorted, arms crossing over his chest. “It was my grandfathers’ 50th wedding anniversary. Do you know how few of those they probably have left? Grandpa Snart’s no spring chicken.” 

Connor Clayton crossed the space between them, folding his bow down and storing it in his quiver. “If it wasn’t the anniversary, it would just be something else,” he said. “You’re always late.” 

“Haven’t you heard?” a female voice called from their left. They turned to see a young woman dressed all in black emerge from the shadows. “It runs in the family.” 

The redhead inclined his head in greeting. “Dinah,” he said. 

Dinah’s lips quirked in a smile. “Bart,” she replied. 

“So,” Bart began, a mischievous smile overtaking his face. “If Green Arrow and Black Canary are out here with me, does that mean you’re both late, too?” 

“As if,” Connor grumbled. “My sister didn’t want to make you go in alone.” 

He glared at the younger girl, but she remained unwavering in her smugness. 

“I told her it would be rude to keep the rest of the League waiting,” Connor continued. “But apparently she doesn’t care.” 

“A superhero’s gotta have a few privileges,” Dinah said, shrugging. She advanced toward both men, looping her arm around Bart’s. “Come one, Thawne,” she sighed, tugging him forward with a devilish smile. “Justice awaits.” 

And so, the three heroes made their way inside, ready to take on the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I know my version of Connor Hawke doesn't fit Arrow-verse canon or comic book canon, but I thought it was a nice compromise between the two, making him both Diggle and Oliver's grandson.  
> As I said earlier, hope you enjoyed this fic. Be sure to leave me comments and kudos, and come check me out on [tumblr](http://asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/).


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